If you counted the moments where we started and where we stopped they would be different versions of the same thing. Because we fell in love once, even if you didn’t want it, even if it was a single breath to fuel one heartbeat in a lifetime. I kept you alive for another day.
It started with the way you tapped your fingers on the steering wheel to New Slang by The Shins, and your sideways smile when you almost drove us straight into the back of a semi truck.
You almost killed me and I fell in love.
The first time I slept beside you, you left The Shins on repeat for the night.
The way you stood closer to me than anyone else and we watched colored smoke unfurl with the wind. Then you looked at me, and I knew it was creeping in to you too.
It started with resting my head on your shoulder.
And it ended in Central Park, on a bench, on a Saturday, when you didn’t let me hold your hand.
It ended with a letter, “l’amour” where you signed your full name. As if I needed your autograph with a formal goodbye.
It ended, and I didn’t get to watch you go.
someone told me today
that humans never truly touch
and the feeling of your hand
in mine are just my atoms
pushing back, repelling
against yours. we are so
alone in this world; a mass
of atoms, mostly water
and all the breaths of
living creatures come before
us, dead and gone and wiped
from this place. we are soft,
a nucleus in space, we feel
everything in an overwhelming
heap of joy, confusion and pain.
I wish I understood purpose.
You can tell so much about a person by the way they leave you.
I don’t want to drown in you anymore.
I will only let you touch me, if your hands are so full of intention, that every brush of your palms feels like you writing a novel on my skin.