maybe earthquakes are just god playing the piano and
maybe my anxieties are construed from the amount of times you said you missed me and i said goodbye
as if you'd ever stop seeing her,
as if i'd ever stop drinking
but when i see you every few months or so, it's as if the
planets are aligned again,
for that tiny speck of time,
only to part their ways and neglect
to recognize each other's existence
until gravity inevitably pulls them close,
the universe feels quiet. time could freeze,
things could heal,
but maybe i'm so terrified of you calling me to say the only mistake you made was wrongly defining the word "love,"
that each moment spent saying you wanted to love me again was entirely out of boredom,
i'll tell you how i watched love die in my hands,
the mistakes i didn't see until i had written them in ink