5pm in a cafe
my mind can’t conjure up the words to explain what swirls around in my chest cavity. the way my stomach drops before i realize what’s happening or the wya my eyes are already burning when i read your name;
and it’s like watching a fire burn dangerously in the middle of a highway. i hear your voice and I stand over the edge of a canyon with roaring waters under my feet, where i am in love with the water, but terrified of dying.
and sometimes, this void of names and labels blankets over me for weeks, and i wake up confused, last remembering the warmth of his hand hovering over the nape of my neck, or my eyelashes fluttering against bare skin as i leave my love across his chest.
sometimes, he is not even there. sometimes it is me, staring at the vast road ahead, covered in shadows like every step is a trap. sometimes i wake up last remembering my ankle tied to a rose bush, beautiful and thorny, and i couldn’t stop the pain from consuming me.
