we're not even on speaking terms any more

I remember when we sat on a park bench at night, and your head lay nestled in the hollow of my shoulder.
My arm circled around your waist, reaching to meet its twin’s wrist.
I looked at you, and you blushed, and told me that staring was rude.
I spelled ‘M-I-N-E’ in the space between your collarbones and your brow with kisses, and breathed words I never dared to speak.
You were flowers in May, the sea spray in July, and the cold wind of November.
I was obsessed, and I knew I would never be good enough.
Two days later, we broke up.
Every kiss since then has left me lonelier.

Do you remember all the days?
We used to sing,
To laugh and play?
To smell the weeds we thought were flowers
To dance inside the April showers
To sing and smile the clouds away
To just be friends anyway
Be free and peaceful
Joyful and light
Not dark and gloomy
Just happy, and bright.

I love how quickly we just fell into place
like nothing happened,
like a year of nothing, a year of void space
didn't get in between.

I love how natural we can be
after that long miserable gap
and how I know I should feel
a little pretense--a tiny fakeness
but there was none of it.

I love how easy we fall into step
like we've been swaying to the same song
a thousand of times
in our shared separate universe
with each other--like we never even left.

I love our alternate universe
and how it still existed
waiting for us,
knowing that we would fall
like missing puzzle pieces
and it did fell in the right places,
making it seem whole.

and I love how the continuity
of what we had and now have
felt infinite and somehow real
and promising and that the idea imprinted on
a beyondness in the future.

but I do not love
how I could not forget
how I was left expecting
--no, assuming of what could've happened
on the miserable gap
because I am afraid that it would've changed
every. little. thing.

I do not love
how a simple little thing
stood between us like a wall
that got thicker and thicker,
piled with red hard bricks
and along the linings of our hearts,
a tinge of uncertainty had ensued.

alas I do not love
how quickly you bounced back in my life
thinking you could just walk into that wall
without even asking, without trying hard
you crossed that wall that easy
like snapping your fingers
or clapping your hands.

I do not love
how you chose now instead of then,
instead of yesterday,
or the day before that,
or the month before that day
or the next day when you decided to disappear.

and I do not love
how quickly I let you in
how I decided that i should still hold on
how I responded, shaking off the hesitation,
brushing off the doubts,
letting you fill me again
with that light only you radiate.

our legs have been decapitated
as soon as we saw each other on the halls
we fret, we tense up, we ignore
without meaning to, without intension.

this wall that had been built
was unplanned, was not meant to
it was built by awkwardness
and shyness that stood
as the hindrance
we never asked for.

shouldn't it be conquered
by the favor of talking?
by the mutualness of our beings?
by the expectations of our souls?

but we are cripples
legs leaving us as we meet
crippled by the longing
of the shared familiarity,
of the proximity we had.

we are cripples,
disabled by the things around us,
by the things we worry about
not moving, fixated on the ground
but wholebeingly hoping, entirely wishing.