and even now as i tell our story,
it sounds like fiction
rolling jagged off of my tongue.

so unthinkable
that i have to remind myself that
it really happened.

yesterday was two years ago.

you told me the only difference you saw was that my hair was longer.

you saw parts of me, blacker than the ink in the well.

i saw you. faced you. lungs aflame with vibrations of anger.

stood, bags packed, one palm on the glass door, one extended to keep you at arms length.

and i still loved you.

more than i loved myself.

i had a dream that my mom threw a surprise birthday party for me.

you were the first one to arrive, in a suit and tie, too.

he was an hour away, roaming the halls of a museum, admiring art with my best friend instead.

it's not hard to make a decision when you're standing right in front of me.

flushed cheeks, dark hair, and the scent of a little too much champagne sparkling off of your tongue as you say anything just to make me laugh.

our love is like bruised fruit--
irreversibly-damaged,
sickeningly sweet,
& difficult to throw away for fear of wasting something that may still taste good.

2,429 miles couldn't make me
love you less, even if it tried.

no amount of states or streets
or the dozens of times i've cried.

you always make me smile
& comfort you never lack.

i love you more than words can say,
across the seas and back.