I'm terrible at naming things (including people)
Have you known love? I met her once in dark brown hair full of dasies beneath a tree in a sweet smelling meadow. Before that I knew love in the body of a boy who shrouded his thoughts in the faintest of smiles and who curled me into his sweater among a blanket of stars. I greeted love again on a train, hurling toward both bile and beauty. It called to me, tugging the train faster into the shadowy dusk alongside a river. More recently I've known love as the lines in a bedsheet, the quiet whistle of trees, and the ease of space shared between two living creatures. Love greets you warmly always, a sunkissed beam of light meant for you alone; but it rips away - slowly at first like a band-aid left on for too long. The pain, though sharp, will heal over and ebb as love returns again tender, constant, consuming.
- untitled 3
I’ve had a few drinks of amber liquid not to be consumed in large amounts and now I have too much to say but maybe I should hold my tongue the way you used to hold my hand so gentle and firm like you never wanted to let go until one day you did and we haven’t held hands since. I think I yearned for our future so intensely that I forgot to hold my own hand while I ran through a dreamworld with you. Now when I search for your shape in the backs of heads in crowded living rooms and the morning commute I look for myself in the puddles I splash through and the swirl of tangled laundry as my mind traces it spinning around and around and around swirling with the memories of limbs lost in sheets as the morning cast embers over the sticky sweet feel of your skin on mine. So I sit and I fight myself as yet another flock of rowdy men excuse themselves into the cool evening air shoving and taunting the whole way. I wrestle myself, between showering off the sickly sweet feel of a night I don’t have to regret if I can focus long enough to remind myself that I don’t have your number memorized (but I do) that you won’t pick up (but you might this time) or how your house is still within walking distance. I unglue from the seat I’ve been occupying and step out into the now drizzly air gazing slowly towards the path I should be walking and the direction I ache to be moving. Clasping my hands together I float off into the black night. - 2:34 a.m.
