octocoffee
Probably it won't happen again. Probably you will tell me "never again, this is the last time." Probably you won't pull me aside in a quiet alleyway and kiss me like that again. Probably I won't touch the emptiness inside of you again, and grasp at it, hoping it'll touch my own emptiness, in desperation.
in the pools something in me touched
you reflected in the water
and i could feel you shiver, watched it ripple
we both grew cold
as we recognized the slow burn somewhere deep
church arches Gothic and ancient
did you ever think we could find God here?
I don't believe in your God
but in the arch of her back and the way her eyes roll
we are finding something together
lost somewhere between the two of us.
diasporic longing, roots beyond the sea, but i want to love the ocean too even if it separates me from the me, the many mes I could have been, longing like sadness longing like joy longing like the lonely boat rides from the prisons just off the shore
bland, a lack of flavor, perhaps color,
is that a bad thing? some days yes
but some days everything hurts so much
and a little less feels better
we were splayed on the sand and i thought we were falling in love
that magic eight balls were honest and we could tell each other little nothings
and maybe one day they'd mean something
more than nothing
i should have kissed you that day by the ocean shore
and we should have kissed goodbye
the waves reflected neither of us and i should have looked
but it was so much more lovely to look into your eyes and all those illusions
kaleidoscopes rolling down a hill
that's what life feels like when i'm running
when i'm breathing
when i'm falling in love
fractals smashed and tumbling
i think i see more of you now
i wanted to know you, wanted you to know me
and all you saw was a travel brochure,
exotic, exxxotic,
jungle and that yellow fever,
i was a risk you were willing to take
but all i wanted was a you to call home
if it melted and lost all its shape, i thought we would lose everything. i thought that if we held each other too close, the heat would be too much. i thought we were icarus and the sun, and even now i feel the wax dripping down my arms, and i mean that.
there was nothing graceful in you,
no ballet in your desperation
but i liked the way your nails dragged
across my back
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