Salt Water Paper

I wanted to read immediately. The only fear was that of books coming to an end.

We live in an age where we feel guilt whenever we have to cut someone off but the reality is that some relationships do need to die, some people do need to be unfollowed and defriended. We aren’t meant to be this tethered to the people in our past. The Internet mandates that we don’t burn bridges and keep everyone around like relics but those expectations are unrealistic and unhealthy. Simply put, we don’t need to know what everyone else is up to. We’re allowed to be choosy about who we surround ourselves with online and in real life, even if it might hurt people’s feelings.

I am always moving towards you. On my bad days, I say to myself: “then you”. Sure, this now. But then you. I will keep tossing myself life lines. I will keep writing myself afloat until I don’t have to write a poem for every mile marker from here to California. You and I together is the most foolish thing I’ve ever hoped for. You and I apart is more foolish. When I can’t sleep at night, I dream up conversations with you. I never call. I never push. I try not to whine. I just write it all down. Sometimes I want to apologize for wanting you out loud, like too many people know the reasons I am going to have laugh lines. Sometimes instead of distanced pillow talk, I want to curl up with the phone and read you poetry. Instead, we just talk about it. You say, “honey, how was your day?” And I say, “today I wrote another poem about your coffee cup mouth and all the ways you still keep me up at night.” I hear a sigh in your smile. You make a sound that reminds me of fighting with my bags at the airport; but you’re still too far away.

i. I never went searching for my missing piece; no one could ever convince me that I was not whole. I still like to think it was good for me. I wove through unsuccessful relationships with ease. I never tried to navigate stormy seas for too long because I was never looking for someone else to complete me. ii. And when I fell in love, it was beautiful. She was beautiful. I remember the first time I saw her with her wide smile and her quiet eyes, and I knew — because they say you just know, and I knew. I felt it in my chest, I felt it in my fingertips: I knew I wanted her in my life, I wanted her in my mouth. iii. It was a big thing, proposing. I knew she would say yes and I was still scared; I think that worried me the most. She made me happy and I was afraid of mucking it up. I was always afraid of mucking it up. iv. We had a big church wedding and she beamed the entire time; she lit up the goddamned room in that dress. I didn’t even mind the cliched sentiments or being reindroduced to relatives I hadn’t seen in years because she was there and she was there for me. v. And then I met you. vi. I met you and I knew. I knew something else entirely. vii. You are married to a man who has never been unkind to you and my own list of complaints is less than short, but when my wife brews coffee at 6am, I wake to the thought of your lips. I meet you twice a week in a cafe; I walk away with the the movements of your mouth in my head. I always imagine I hear your voice on the other end of the phone. I greet telemarketers with overbearing amounts of affection. viii. I do not understand my own commitment, how words spoken in front of a room of people I know have turned into something more than words. And I’m not allowed to call them words; I’m sorry. They are “vows” but they fit my mouth like a gag. These days there are too many things I am not saying. ix. I still don’t believe in missing pieces. I just believe in missing you. I try not to blame myself. People go their whole lives believing the wrong things. What can you do? Generations thought the world was flat, but you are here and the world is so round; and if you start at one point and keep going, you will always find your way back. x. I would have liked to always find my way home to you, but I do not know how to call you home when I’ve given my name away to someone else and it only ever belonged to you.

If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.

Be somebody who makes everybody feel like a somebody.

And I would set my self on fire just so you could light your cigarette.

The less I needed, the better I felt.