1.
It was March: the inbetween. The month that brings that heart-drop feeling which in turn boomerangs into the sweet taste of honey. The devil was on my doorstep, the world blue, and I was left with a forever memory of how that song made me cry.
Somewhere between its ides and luck, I found you. And maybe everything that spiraled before and since is an explanation of my being, because the sieve does not separate who I am from what you taught me. Because you asked me who I was, I stuck around for an answer myself.
2.
I didn’t know something so strong could dissolve. I thought it would be like black oil paint and water. Instead, it fluttered away until I forgot what you sound like.
I always said that I didn’t care anymore. And when the time came, I really didn’t, and that was what surprised me. I almost wished I cared; it’ll show that the I’ll always love you was never a lie. But now I know to be less generous with the words I pour. The mucus builds up and hardens around my tongue, and I can no longer love purely the way I loved you.
3.
The world, once blue, is now free in my mind. In this world, you are next to me on the white slide of Komazawa Park with a cardboard sled in hand. I push you down, and next, you me, and we giggle under the whistling green of Japanese oak.
In this world, you exist in a void that nothing else can penetrate. You are both shards of glass and stained glass mosaic. You are beautiful and transient; you slip through my touch. Your smile hides nothing but maybe because I’m not looking for other readings of your curled lips.
4.
Instead I chase you through London’s puddles. I grasp at splashes of you, ones that evaporate into the air I breathe.
I am imbued with a sense of guilt and satisfaction to know that I’m alive, miles away from you. Everything eventually washes away, but I’ve learned that some mud is thicker than others.
Sole Magazine