5.15

i️ look at pictures of mountains now and

i️ see you in every shadow.

i imagine myself the sharp curve of rock you

long to hold onto,

my heart the summit your own heart won’t let you abandon

without reaching.

 

What a miracle

The way love reshapes the world

Gives each rugged face new meaning

 

Except i have no say in these definitions

I am no mountain

it is much easier

to let me go

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there is a mouse in my kitchen

small and dark and quick to disappear

like a shadow i almost don’t believe

 

but even with the mouse under the stove and

the soft canine snores from down the hall

this room is lonely

this house is lonely

this weather is lonely

and i am–

 

forgive me.

generally speaking,

i am not very good at trusting things i can’t see.

sometimes,

late at night,

i dream about breaking in and taking back

everything i had to leave behind.

 

this is not figurative.

 

although,

your disc drive on which is stored

every memory of my teenage years

does seem

an apt metaphor

for all that you took that i wouldn’t get back

no matter how many

windows i smashed or

doors i pried open

while you lay fast asleep in the bed we made.

 

flight

yes, I ran.

not only that: I think I

might still be running,

cradling my heart close in my chest,

carrying it far enough away

from anything hard enough

to break it.

 

Franklin Line from Readville

I think

without meaning to,

I’d stumbled into thinking

I’d reached the outer edge of beauty until I

stumbled,

dazed,

into knowing you.

 

And even if we never see each other again

(which seems likely) —

jesus christ, I’d been living under the dim pretense that

good was good enough.

But then

I rushed in from the street and saw you and

nearly forgot my own name until,

miracle,

you smiled and said,

as both question and answer:

Hannah?

 

right

someday,

i’ll just want someone to go to the movies with,

and to make fun of me for caring enough to notice

that i ended that clause with a preposition

but not enough to do anything about it,

someone who will love me for the way

i trained myself to

write my Rs in all caps, always

just to seem cool.

 

someday

probablydefinitelymaybe soon,

i’ll want to care about

what you ate for breakfast,

or bought on sale at that new place downtown,

or what reddit thread you’re currently

two hundred and eighty-three comments deep into reading (okay,

actually,

i’ve never cared about that and that’s probably not going to change).

 

but

i’m not tired yet,

of the gamble of romance; of

the seat on the train

across the aisle from poetry; of

the curious, fascinating, strange beast that is

whatever comes before love.