some nights this bubble of an idea rises to the surface of my mind. i wonder if i’ll ever see you again. on transit, or the street, or an art gallery. alone or with others? it would probably be terrible. terribly sad. but you were so very important and beloved by me. i wish i could have articulated myself better. i wish we could have cried together. i wish we could have healed alongside each other. kept the lines of contact open. it’s strange how years, y e a r s, can pass so quickly. the strings of our love unwind further and further, fraying and dispersing into the universe, transmuting into myriad other forms. waves away from us. waves of time and space and life between each other. different trajectories. there is no bitterness anymore, only the occasional nausea. closure is slow to come for me, it always has been. i love holding on too much to ever really swallow and digest the past. this constant state of becoming is painful, isn’t it? not an original thought, no, but a lesson that is apparently to be learned over and over in this lifetime. and endings are painful. even these words seem like a reduction. too simple and clean and easy to write. to think. in truth, i feel like my chest and heart and brain are full of all these cavities left behind by the people i’ve known. friends and lovers and family members and coworkers. so many people. how do they all fit in me? does everyone feel this way? does this happen to everyone? i’m gonna stop now, but in any case-- it’s been a privilege to know anyone at all.
