In my constellation of identities one reads “your lover”
I wonder if you’ve noticed
That I haven’t hugged you since the last time
I said goodbye and meant the first part of that
“Here we are.”
I gasped for a bit of breath as I took my final stride up the hill. It wasn’t really one of exasperation, just unatheleticness (I remember the last time I ran a mile– it was freshman year gym and the only bad grade that tainted my line of As).
“Are you okay?”
We made eye contact for the first time in 30 minutes. My eyes had been set on the dirt that moved beneath my feet, or the dirt that I moved over, whichever it was. Now i faced pools of blue, against more of the same.
“You haven’t said anything this whole time.”
I didn’t move. My face made no adjustments. I stood and I drowned.
We broke our shared gaze. I jumped out of the pools and found myself gasping for air again.
I am dizzy.
You shine so bright
I want to revolve around you
I loved every indentation you made in my impressionable heart
Because it meant you were becoming
a part of me
The words you didn’t say to me
The most beautiful poem
My lips are chapped
And my mouth is sore
My eyes are wet
But maybe that’s okay since
I have no more
kisses left to give