#kempy

do not mind the tears;

most alive i’ve felt in months,

he says “i’ve never” and

i say “would you” and he says

“not with a woman” and looks at me

with questions in his eyes.

he says “would you” and

i say “only if” and he holds me

against the trailer and tells me

not to move an inch.

he says “are you crying” and

i say “not because of you” and he

goes to let me move and i tell him

not to loosen his grip.

he says “that was” and

i say “yes” and he says “would you”

and i say “not with you again”.

he says “that bad” and

i say “no” and he says “i wouldn’t either”

and i say “that bad” and he says “no”.

he says “my brother’s here” and

hot and humid and heady,

the summer hasn’t left yet.

no decisions are made with

clear minds, and i let him do things to me

that i never let anyone even think of.

the summer never ended and we’re

drunk and i’m dying, disintegrating,

and i’m angry with you all,

and he’s there and before he has to leave

he fucks me

and i let him.

and there’s nothing to say about it,

and he leaves and i sleep and it serves

to demonstrate how much i cant feel anything

that i sleep and i feel nothing at all.

but it’s hot and it’s humid and

the summer isn’t over, it’s endless and

poured over like a sickly sweet sauce

on a toffee pudding, and i’m drunk and

i’m dying and i’m angry and

i cannot stop thinking about

how you described the three of us.

he, you said, was like your brother.

a bond that wouldn’t sever. safety and

knowing each other on a deeper level.

she, you said, was almost your twin.

the closest you’ll ever be to a person.

you cannot imagine life without her.

and i, you said - or we, i suppose -

“twin flames. the very definition of

platonic love.”

i think about it a lot. it was so succinct.

and made such perfect sense.

it made me think about my three people.

you, who is like a rock. a held hand.

constant, and comforting, and solid, and secure.

the very definition of platonic love

isn’t far off, i don’t think.

and [-], the one who feels like

the other half of me.

a force of kindness and comfort

and so much i wish i could be.

i cannot express my feelings

about them

in any meaningful way.

they feel like being known, like being loved,

like an unconditional promise

that someone is in my corner.

and [-], he feels like a hug.

warm and steady,

like an expression of everything ever,

like a deliberate choice

to make it known that everything will

be okay. i don’t think

i’ve ever felt more whole, more of a

person, than when we talk.

i’d follow you all to the ends of the earth,

do whatever i could to ease your pain.

i love you all so very much,

and yet in such precisely different ways.

i’ve been thinking about your definitions of love

since you told them to me

over tea. i’d not seen you in months.

someone else used the phrase,

once:

“[-] is one of my closest friends, they’re

one of my people”

i want a night of telescopes and tea

a night of stars and deep conversation

of easy smiles and tracking saturn

as it moves across the sky

when you said “let’s go stargazing

in the fields up draycott hill”

i wasn’t expecting the night we had

and yet it was one of the best

nights i’ve ever had.

end of an era? i think maybe so.

i’m still not sure that i like

how far apart we feel. but at the same

time, what a send off that was.

i want another night like that.

i’ve had a couple since, i guess.

that same easy feeling, late at night,

with deep conversation and

laughter and calm. it feels safe.

these were significantly drunker affairs,

of course. but they existed, and i

loved them.

still, i miss you. i want another

night of telescopes and tea,

and conversations round a fire

in someone’s garden. i want