I met him on a subway.
and when I saw him it wasn’t those cliche looks.
it was just something I never felt before.

I ran onto the subway, leading me to 42nd Street, it was crowded for a Wednesday.
I got in at the last second and let my air sigh of our my mouth louder than I wanted it to and I looked around self consciously seeing if anyone heard me.

then I saw him.

and I wish I took a gasp of air before I looked into his ******* eyes because I found myself not able to take another breath.
he was perfect, just simply perfect.
he had his earphones in (listening to a song I will never know)
iPhone in one hand, a light brown backpack on his back, and an easy wardrobe of faded jeans and a black t-shirt.
he was simply perfect.
and when I thought that he couldn’t be anymore amazing, he smiled at me.
not one if those “hey stranger” smiles but a “hey I’ve known you for a long time” smile. and maybe I’m looking too into it or I’m just imagining an angel in one of these “life crisis” moments. but it didn’t matter because I was here to see him I was here to see him breathe and think and watch him so normally but I just couldn’t help but feel like it was the most fascinating moment of my entire existence.
I wanted to speak to him, I wanted to hear his voice, his name, his favorite song.
everything.
just every single thing about him, I didn’t even know this guy and I was already in love with him!
is that even possible? to be in love with a complete stranger?

I was ****** out of my thoughts when the subway halted suddenly.
my grip tightened on the metal bar filled with every germ I could remotely think of.
the doors whooshed open as he stood up from his seat and started walking over to the door. No!
I didn’t want him to leave just yet.
I wasn’t even allowed to take him in yet, I wasn’t able to understand him and how his heart works.
a burst of feeling erupted in my body and every fiber was telling me to do something.
but I did nothing.
he simply grazed my shoulder and whispered a gentle sorry in my ear.
and I’m still trying to figure out if the apology was for barely bumping into me or for not asking what my name was

I've learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of a little
purple capsule.
I've learned that Pisa will have to wait until next time.
I've learned that the third mushroom
held in my sweaty palm was not as
big a deal compared to the other two opening my mind.
I've learned that a part of me
died that night where we ****** in a
room with no furniture.
I've learned that life is work and that
the molotov cocktail of Dubrah and eay mac
that came spewing from me left an orange tang
upon the floor.
I've learned that pain is better than numbness
and that jabbing a sewing needle repeatedly in my arm
was an educated decision.
Most importantly I've learned that together we are better than alone.