#gltrbug

You don’t know how hard it is for me to breathe properly when you drum your fingers against your cheek. You’ll lean forwards, and I can hear your bones crack from across the room. You say you’re sore from sleeping funny or running up that hill behind the flower shop. You roll your neck out, and I am reminded of a sunstorm, and thunder cracking open the heavens. You will pretend you don’t hear the sound of your own brittle bones made or steel and diamonds, and will drum your fingers against your desk or against your cheek.

I don’t know how hard it is to breathe running four kilometers up a hill. I asked you why you ran the same route, the trail behind the flower shop, and you said you liked the way your legs burned and the way you knew you were almost at the bottom when you smelled flowers or your ankle was tickled by the stretch of daisies.  

You don’t know how hard it was to breathe when you came to class with a bloody knee and a scraped elbow, dark circles under your eyes. Of course, you still looked radiant. Not in the sense that you were beautiful, but that even with a bloody knee you were still holding your head up. You looked as though you are made of sea glass and diamonds. You are electric, and when someone asks you why you’re limping, you look like you might just rip their veins out and wear them as bangle bracelets. You whisper to me that you tripped over your cat, and I feel a weight I didn’t know I was carrying lift up off of my shoulder, and my heart seems to swell up so big, my ribcage might just crack open. 

I don’t know why we are here. At some dingy chinese food place that will undoubtedly make me throw up later. My stomach already hurts. Or maybe that’s just the way you;re looking at me. Like you have ichor and iron running through your veins rather than blood. I don’t know why we’re here. We could be anywhere. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if when we stood up, I floated away. I am so light headed from looking at you, it is like staring into the sun. 

You don’t know where your shoes are. We are in the middle of a field, and my cars tires are matted, and the grass behind us has been flattened. There is music playing so loudly it might just shake the stars right out of the night sky. You are twirling, and twirling. I am just watching you. I don’t know why I haven’t told you I’m in love yet. 

I don’t know whether to hold your hands or look away. You are staring at me so fiercely, that I can’t seem to look directly at you. I have to squint. It’s like staring at a swollen sunset, colorful and explosive. I want to be here forever. 

The preacher asks me the question. And for once, I know exactly what to do.