{Travail d'amour}

…We’re all cynics and romantics, sometimes simultaneously.

My entire life can be described in one sentence: It didn’t go as planned, and that’s okay.

Here and now, I have only these hands, this mouth, this skin as wide as a shoreline, this beehives between my ears, this buzz, this buzz. You are the best thing I never planned. This is the widest I can stretch my arms without dropping things. This is the first time I don’t care if I drop things. This is what dropping things feels like. This is what happens when the flowers wake up one morning and decide to smell human: it confuses us, makes us reach backwards into places that are sharp, feel around for things we’ve dropped. I have forgotten what I was looking for. It doesn’t seem important. You brought me flowers. You made the bed. This is the widest I can stretch my arms. This is all I have right now.