Lately I’ve been looking back at intimate moments and it feels like there’s someone there. When I collapsed into grass or perhaps snow in the old courtyard and lost myself in stars and clouds and light pollution did someone lay beside me, hand rooting me? Did their light breaths and quick heartbeat match my own? Did they help me to my feet and to their arms? I know at least once when reality returned I walked back to my room hollow and jaded. Was there ever that other moment that my brain is merging with this, or is the comfort I feel now so thoroughly soaking through that even such moments of attempted life in isolation feel incomplete without at least a drop of this