if our fingers brushed together
and you pressed yours to mine
so accidentally-on-purpose
they gently intertwined
and i looked at you
and you looked at me
and we smiled
i think maybe everything
would be just fine.

i missed you yesterday
and the day before
and the day before
when i hadn't seen you for a month.
time was a monster gnawing away
at the walls of its cage between my ribs,
its chains rusting and cracking with wear.
the present was a dreamer's life
of sleep and rest and zoning
because how else could i reach my perfect world
of us?
the past was a landmine,
every moment a missed opportunity
for more time with you.
and the future was repeated images
of when it was finally today,
hugging and seeing and knowing and having.

i missed you earlier
more than i ever had before
when i saw you for the first time in a month.
somehow time had freed itself
and i guess it saved our "us, maybe"
for its main course
because by the time i got to you
i could see in your eyes
that we were already gone.

Sometimes I wish that darkness was a human and that darkness was a cannibal.
That from the concave behind my eyes
wisps of black stretched out
and swallowed up my skin,
turned me upside down
and inside out
until I was inside it.
The skin or the darkness
I’m not sure.

when i laugh i look at you
and maybe it’s wishful thinking
but sometimes i think
you do the same, too.

Aching,
empty.
Restless
but not
in motion.
Words
blocked
like a
******'s dam.
Leaking through
the cracks
waiting for
the flood.