nat!

Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips, and then I’ll go. Maybe also one more breakfast. One more lunch, and one more dinner. I’ll be full, and happy. And we can part.

But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time. One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest. My hope is that if we add up the ‘one mores,’ they will equal a lifetime. And I’ll never have to get to the part where I let you go.

But that’s not real, is it?

There are no more ‘one mores.’ I met you when everything was new and exciting, and the possibilities of the world seemed endless. And they still are. For you, for me. But not for us.

Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we didn’t just grow apart. We grew up.

When something breaks, if the pieces are large enough, you can fix it. Unfortunately, sometimes, things don’t break. They shatter. But when you let the light in, shattered glass will glitter.

And in those moments, when the pieces of what we were catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was. Just how beautiful it’ll always be. Because it was us.

And we were magic.

Pit.

Pat,

Patter go

Your emotions.

Pit. Pat.

Just raindrops

Dropping here.

And there.

Pit-pat.

Pitter-patter

On the roof.

Slowly getting more

And more often, and

Quicker in between, and

Building up in volume as it

Swells into a crescendo, and

Your throat has a painful lump in it

That formed out of the blue as the

Deluge now pours over in torrents that are

Quickly filling the basins of your eyes that

Your eyelids like dams about to burst are straining

To keep your feelings hidden in the depths yet

With a sharp gasp of cold air and a flash of light

And a deafening crack that splinters the sky

And a gut-churning boom

The dam

Gives way

To a flood.

And the rain, now embarrassed,

Realizing what it's done,

Starts to quiet in

Decrescendo,

Realizing,

Pitter-patter,

What it's done.

Pit-pat go

your emotions.

Pit.

A bottle of dandelion wine,

Memories of a summer distilled

Burn the throat

And warm the heart.

And in its magic,

All portent of

Tomorrow’s winter

And bitter vomit

And nauseous vertigo

And salty cheeks

And bloodshot eyes