anxiety.

oxygen surrounds my body
as it chants
“i am the air you cannot get into your lungs”.

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that sunday night.

we smoked on a sunday night.
and that is when i felt
with all of my heart
some of the most precious emotions i’ve ever experienced.
you were in my arms as we laid on the couch.
netflix was on in the background
and your kitchen light and a solo lamp in the corner set the mood for all.
our foreheads and noses were touching
as you were falling into my soul,
the way that waves fall back into the ocean after gently grazing the untouched sands and imperfect castles of strangers nearby.
i could tell that you were smiling by the dimple below your left eye.
whole conversations were whispered
like two middle schoolers who were on the phone past curfew.
your eyes never broke away from me but for a blink,
and even so,
you rushed back from your flutter to put your gaze right back on me.
“what is this that we are feeling?” you whispered as our faces still touching, never rupturing our union.
my lips stayed silent in fear of saying a four letter word only meant for lovers.
now as i think back and try to figure out that feeling of intimacy that we felt on that sunday night,
i’m realizing that there isn’t a single word to describe that feeling, darling.
but i can tell you that it was a mixture of love and sadness and passion.

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the kindest one.

an unopened bottle of champagne sits on the floor near my bedroom door.
we lie in bed weak from martinis and whiskey
and he reaches over and says “good morning sweetheart”.
my succulent plants can no longer face the cold temps of my winter new york bedroom
and my once white rug is now a grey blur.
his beard tickles my neck as i listen to my neighbor’s heels clap on the floor above.
for a split second i can see clouds surround our bodies.
gravity is a lost concept and i’ve never felt so high and so sober in one moment.
i am being held by the kindest man known to mankind,
and in this hour i’m not fretting about when i will see him next
or if he likes me back.
rather, my mind is serene and my body is still
and all of me feels pleasant.

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firecracker.

my popsicle melted onto my fingers, coasted down my pinky, and dripped onto my cognac sandals from four seasons ago.

you looked at me and said “let’s be secret crushes that make fifth grade boys fake-gag during recess”.

your mouth said nothing.

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juxtaposition.

that was the first time in my life that i didn’t believe that everything happens for a reason.

this is the first time in my life that the reasons and the rhymes create a song, my favorite song.

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