The last 3 letters of the spring

After you get over the firsts
very quickly come the seconds
a second wave of unsent happy birthday texts and unwitnessed inside jokes
should’ve, could've, would've named as “drafts” in my google docs

relentless

I couldn't see my face, so I looked at yours
very very loudly screaming in my ears, unnecessarily dreadful: me too.
It doesn't go away
It's just
we are in the after now and my hair is long again

It really sucks to fall apart in a spotless house
So…what now?
Are your seconds as real as mine?

relentless