there are many things that keep me up at night, like the evolution of life and the existence of time and the meaning behind said existence and whether there’s existence beyond the only existence we are familiar with. and then there’s you. i spend approximately an hour thinking about that other stuff and approximately three, maybe four, maybe less, maybe more (usually more) thinking about you. i wonder if the abyss i feel on a daily basis is because i’m trying to grasp an existence i can find no other meaning for than you. maybe that’s what you’re so intangible, maybe that’s why you’re so far away. it is the universe’s idea of getting me to realise that i will never grasp it and i will never understand it and with this realisation comes heavy weight, like a gnawing on my joints, splintering in case i forget there’s something missing.
with this realisation comes many more realisations: i will never grasp you, i will never understand you and you are intangible because you are a universe to me and all i want to do is hold your black holes in the palms of my hands and crush them with the heavy weight i surround myself with and all i want to do is dot-to-dot the constellations of your mind so i can feel connected to you in some way.
there are particles of your skin in my bedsheets and the breath that clouds out of your mouth as your bewildering mind speaks has entered my own at some point and i am told it takes seven years to get rid of and i’m not sure how true it is but all i know is i have seven years to find you so that i do not lose the best pieces of me. seven years is a long time, but i’ve spent approximately two just daydreaming of the lines under your eyes and the colour of your lips and i am still no closer to you.
when i realised you were a universe, i was sat in a café on a city street we passed many times and i couldn’t stop drawing pictures of your hands and the way they cupped and caressed like no other and suddenly you were cupping the world and there were stars and supernovas and darling, i swear, it all made so much sense. the wind blew that piece of paper away and maybe that should have made sense, too, but it didn’t and i tried to draw your hands again but they didn’t cup the same way and i guess the universe has always been presenting signs but i have been blinded by the stars you hold.
i am sorry i wasn’t good enough to melt the icicles that formed on your heart after she left you. i have been bathing my wounds from your tongue for a while and the saltwater sting mocks me every time. it is not the only reminder i have of you, there is a long list and i’m sure one day i will write it on a scroll for you and for once you will crumble into the dust that i held buried in my collarbones waiting for your lips. for once you will understand what rubble feels like beneath your feet as everything around you perishes under your own fingertips and it will weigh even heavier on your shoulders than when she left you.
i said that i had seven years to find you so that i did not lose the best parts of myself but since you’ve been gone i have been trying to become my own universe. the planets do not align yet but there are more stars than black holes now and if i had to thank you for one thing, it would be that. i longed to be your epiphany but now i cannot stop fulfilling epiphanies of my own. if i was to be anything i would have been your shadow, with you wherever you went; now, i am sure i would be the light that casts such shadow and you will wince at how bright i shine.
i have spent two years daydreaming about the way your lips curve and the movement of your hips on the dancefloor and how you brush your hair behind your ears and i have come to loathe them. your lips do not curve, they fold. they fold syllables and words into tiny shards of glass and pierce the skin of those who love you. i am still tending to my wounds but i heal the same way a phoenix raises from ashes. you brush your hair behind your ears when you want something because you know how intimidating your beauty is but darling, your hair is growing thin now and intimidation is a natural response to things people don’t understand and how mediocre it is to understand you. don’t get me wrong, you are still a universe but if you always believe you are centre, the gravitational field that holds those orbiting you close will weaken and your universe will annihilate itself the way forest fires burn what they find beautiful.
in seven years i will wash away the parts of myself that have been touched by you and not a trace of you will exist in my veins anymore. i cannot wait to finally feel like i can breathe and not choke on your name every time i try to exhale you.
you may be a universe but honey, so am i and how blissful it is to have nothing keeping me up at night.