Do you hear that?

Your heart will become a dusty piano in the basement of a church and she will play you when no one is looking. Now you understand why it’s called an organ.

It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.

The girl you saw when you looked at me - she must have been amazing. You looked at her like she was an angel, like she would guide you to the light. Or maybe she was the light and you had lived your whole life in darkness. Maybe she was the sun and you lived by the dusty, flickering yellow of fluorescent bulbs. Maybe she was your first glimpse of a brighter world. But darling, the girl you saw wasn’t me. My crooked smile will never be bright enough to light the way. I am not the fire that makes your house feel like a home.  I can’t warm you. I can’t save you. I can’t guide you. I can’t even see where I’m going. It’s dark. It’s dark. It’s dark. I am not your light.

I keep hearing your heartbeat. Your chest moved slowly, deep rhythmic breaths. The rise and fall of the ocean under my head. But your heart beat hard. While I laid there, I listened. I imagined what it could be that made your pulse quicken. Sure, it could have been the suspense of the chase scene in the movie we pretended to watch. That makes sense. Was that it? Is that all? I looked up to watch you laugh at my shitty joke and I fell in love. Could you tell? Did you feel my heart skip a beat against yours? I don’t remember what we were saying. I knew I needed to keep talking to keep looking at you. There was an explosion on screen. “You’re missing the movie.”

What kind of writer am I? With all this love and no words for it?

Imagine us bathing in a setting sun, our bare backs to the world and our faces to the sky. Imagine us, sipping time and how sweet it tastes; how it warms our bellies and wraps wrinkles around our mouths, draws worry in our hands. Imagine us, under the stars; wolves tuning their howls into lullabies and babies sleeping the whole night through.   Before all the breath is stolen from our lungs, I will turn to you and say, ‘I am yours, in this lifetime, and every one after it. I am yours as long as I exist.’

I think there came a time when I fell in love with hurting. Like, a lot of people hate to be crying late at night, but I kinda love it.

And I dream too much and I don’t write enough and I’m trying to find God everywhere.