I got up and rubbed my red eye into a swollen pit of clarity. It was 4am and I tiptoed downstairs and quietly flew out the side door. She was waiting for me across the street, eyes glowing, shy smile and all. I carelessly crossed the street and wrapped my arms around her small frame, breathing in a soft floral scent that glazed my eyes over. We stood there taking each other in, eyes closed, imagining, dreaming, full of love and exciting hope. This would be the final time we’d see each other. It ached; then I realized I’d been smiling for hours.
When it’s cold out, we seem to most need people. Bodies to cling to, hands to clutch, mouths and necks to kiss. The summer brings a sense of aimlessness, wandering around in the sunshine, I don’t care if I’m alone behavior. There is nothing that I want more than to fly across the state and temporarily into your life but mountains are higher than ever, rivers deep, emotions completely unavailable in these moments. I am so in love with the idea of being perpetually distant that I don’t even know who I am anymore as I drift along the broken earth in this stupid alone-but-not-lonely daze of mine. There is a sense of painful comfort in this, like when he puts his hand around my throat.
