it goes on;

after it was over, i sat in the clouds, watching the wings of the plane disrupt the sky. i imagined you as a tiny thing on the ground. thought it strange how two small hands disappearing could hold the whole world for someone. even now, when i’m supposed to know better, i look for you in unlikely places. wonder if you’ll wander into my hotel lobby or the new brunch place my friends chose. i love you when i don’t mean to. when i’m in a new city and any street could be your street. when i’m in an elevator and the doors could open to your perfect hair falling into your perfect face. but since i can’t have you, i do what helps and i pray for you. i pray your hands never tremble when you wish them steady. i pray your laugh always comes from the most honest part of you and not the top of your throat like it does when you’re pretending. and since we’re saying embarrassing things, then i’ll say this too. on my way out from detroit last week i wanted them to stop me at security and say someone somewhere is waiting and they need you right here. but no one even looked at me twice. i don’t know if you’ve even been to detroit. if you like traveling. if you get sick on airplanes. if you grew up in the same house your whole life or if you moved twelve times. if your parents are good to you. if you also love people who were once living and loved you back and now are no longer living. if you think they can still love us from over there. i do now, but a while back i used to think that when each person i loved died, a part of me was erased until there was a very small part of me left and that small part wouldn’t be enough to hold me up and my life would end where it began. but that’s not true. to love someone even once

I wrote a poem about the ugly ruins of us. Then I thought of Pompeii, Knossos, Rhodes, and I realised not all ruins are ruined.