It hurts to think of you vividly and in full, so I picture you in cute ambiguities these days. When I picture your face very clearly, I crumple a little. Your soft, freckle-kissed, stubbly face, once a warm and sweet presence, takes a concrete mold when you see me. Your eyes hold too much pain— pain that exists from me— and I can feel their milky anger beating my soul. So I fixate on your nose. Your nose is cute and round, littered with sunny freckles that exist year-round. It reminds me of your puppy-like qualities, which I would remark to you constantly, my tone loving, while I kissed this very nose (sometimes softly, sometimes with a bite).