you’d think your mission to abandon me would set the record straight with my brain. but instead the record is now skipping over and over and it’s stuck on you. all. the. time.

you walked out of my life as abruptly as you entered it. how cruel to give me a taste of you when you planned on leaving so soon.

i hope you see two moons in the sky forevermore. one to remind you of our love. and one to remind you of your mistake.

either you didn’t love me, or you did but didn’t want to. i’m not sure which is worse.

it was the way you opened me up and reveled in the garden before you. that’s what you told me. i was like a garden, one you never wanted to leave. so when did you get tired of watching things grow?

it was the way you kissed me on the cheek as i was taking in the most expansive beauty of ocean in front of me. in a place you loved and a place i was falling in love. we spoke with our tongues on each other and bodies intertwined the night before. something i still crave. but it was in that innocent moment, the unexpected kiss, not even on my lips, that still spirals me into the ground itself.

it was the way you stumbled back in awe when i turned around from talking about the wonder of that twisted tree along the river. i blushed and felt silly for gasping at the way the branches took up the sky. but your look pierced me deep, in a feeling of appreciation i hadn’t known before. you saw the way i saw the tree and you were falling in love with me for it.

it was the way you relaxed back into your chair at dinner as i nearly hopped up over our corner table into the window glass itself to see the otters in the water. i didn’t care about food or the other patrons. and neither did you, when you looked at me with that smirk as you told me how magical my unguarded excitement was to witness.

it was the way you called me moon, and nothing else ever again. perhaps in hindsight it was because of the moon’s impermanence and distance. you already knew you couldn’t make a home in me.

“it’ll pass” felt survivable for fleabag. but she was abandoned for something heavenly. how could you move onto another when you had already called me your heaven?

how much easier that would be. hard still, but not impossible like this. see, god is untouchable. an idea. a ghost.

“It’s God, Isn’t It?”