ベラナギヤル

“There were summers I’d never thought I’d make it here. It’s Thursday night and he’s fixing dinner; pasta simmering on the stove and garlic bread toasting in the oven. We drift in and out of conversation, but leave kisses on each other’s shoulders and write love poems on the bathroom mirror. I am no longer the moon chasing the sun. We rest our bones by each other’s sides. I wake to see the freckles still there on his skin, his eyelashes fluttering under the deep wave of dreams. I no longer fear not finding love, or never knowing enough of it. It’s right here: curled up in our comforter and breathing easy. I think I belong here.”

“Our birdsong, birthday wish, beyond body kind of love. The cosmos themselves could not have imagined us.”

Growing up I never had irrational fears. I wasn’t scared of heights or needles like my sisters. I would lean too close to the edge at the top of buildings. I would watch the nurse prick my arm. It didn’t bother me in the slightest. In my teens when I started to get sick it worried the doctors that I wasn’t afraid to die. It worried them on my seventh set of meds. It worried everyone I knew when I ran away in the middle of the night. I hadn’t intended to scare them. Or hurt anyone. I just couldn’t think straight anymore. So when people ask me what I’m afraid of I can’t say something trivial like spiders or the dark. How do you tell people you’re afraid of existing and getting your whole life wrong? You lost eight years not being okay and you feel like you won’t ever catch up. In this day and age if you’re not successful by 25 they write you off. My birthday is only seven months away and I’m nowhere near good yet. So how can I answer such questions when no one is prepared for my reply? I was never afraid to die. I was terrified to live.

I wasn’t a good lover. I forgot if we ever had a song, the landmarks we made out of kissing spots, and I don’t know if you have any idea how much you meant to me.   I wasn’t a good lover. I still want you when you’re not here.