there’s a place i want to take you, a few years back. we could watch from the start. it goes a lot like this: we spread a blanket and lay down to look through each other. a train drives through and we’re stuck on opposite sides of the rails, screaming and fighting and crying until the train stops and we stare some more, realizing there was never really anything there. we laugh. “i started running a few years after that and somehow i arrived at the intersection between his hands and the other side of the bed. i dreamt of this one night, truly, i rolled over and woke up under the stars, in all their glory, but they shone a little to bright and i saw it again. the shoulders and the bruises, oh the bruises. they always burned a beautiful color of plums and that red wine he claimed to love so much. i always knew he was lying about that. the way the corner of his lips crawled up his cheeks, desperate for some distance from his slick tongue. that always gave him up.” i’ll explain how i’ve tried to forget the running, but “what am i without it?” i’ll weep while laughing and then squeeze my eyes closed the way he did with his fists and wait to see if i can piece together a memory of what i will never be again. when i wake up i’ll realize i was never really asleep and you were never really there, just like the train we fought so passionately about. my soul’s worn weary from every moment i’ve spent pounding my feet into the trails i carved into my skin dedicated to creating a road map to the center of **** knows what. “i want to go back to the fire i lit, burning sweet nothings, and thank god, oh thank god i’ll find my way back if i trace the tracks on my body.” i will explain to you how i considered changing my name and running a little further. “maybe somewhere the people will worship me, maybe i can be someones messiah and flood their city with my tainted blood. bleed me dry, i will cry out to a crowd of fools.” you’ll cry too, but i want you to watch.