It’s beautiful, honey, it’s beautiful; look at what we made,
Look how pink, how soft, how wet. How it blinks and winks and curls. How, in 16 years, it’ll blacken and harden and expire. It’s okay.
I dreamt I stood on the cliff and breathed air and forgot to jump,
dreamt I grabbed the curtains and clawed them until a large man came and dragged me out into the snow bank on the curb, dreamt of a million things and somehow all of them were you.
We watched the clouds turn.
Stared at maps and marvelled at how the shores used to fit together.
Even now, sitting on the bus to take me to another life…
Wasted time. We had so little.
I think I’ll spend forever looking for you in other people. And all the while, he’ll be saying, It’s beautiful, honey, it’s so beautiful…