“you can recite the first eighteen digits of pi but when someone asks if you still taste her peppermint gum your cheeks go pale for a moment you have spent a night figuring out how fast the train was going an hour after she left you, departing the station in a southwest direction just as the dusk settled at 6:32 PM her face and your heart growing small in the distance, a howling speed that echoed down to the soles of your feet if the distance between two people is divided by how much you want to apologize and multiplied by how you’ll never have the right words to say how deeply terribly sorry you are, what kind of poem do you write her? what is the address of all of those letters and messages and phone calls you started but never actually sent? how many dollars does it take (in gas mileage) before she takes you back again? what if you [A] show up at her [B] door and find that [C] she doesn't want you anymore? Answer in terms of your lips bleeding and your jaw hurting for love of her. how much of you is left? answer in fractions, answer in the crescent moon of your fingernails digging into the soft of your palms, answer in how empty your whole body has gone. she was your everything, she was every atom and star and word that you have ever learned all dancing in a harmony that made you believe in magic what is the twelfth atom in the periodic table. what happened to tesla. what invention allowed for the internet. will you get her back. can you get her back. prove: this time will be different. prove: you will be there for her the way she deserves. thesis: if you run hard enough, then when you show up you’ll be too out of breath to say much and she’ll be able to see by your bloody feet and the hurt in your eyes that ever since she’s gone all else has died.”
— Science // r.i.d (via inkskinned)
