i won't lie
and say we haven't been like two fish
swimming circles in our fish bowl

one night ago
on the eve of our anniversary
we sat in silence and ate sushi
and all i could think was -
how distant i felt from you
despite our legs touching underneath the table.

how can this be,
when we've been swimming circles
in our fish bowl?

it's been two months
since the betrayal
and
i won't lie
and say we haven't been like two fish
swimming in two different oceans
in two different parts of the world.

things are not the same like they used to be -
but i have some hope that
we will stop swimming circles
soon.

sipping a smoothie through my straw -
taste buds lighting up with how good it is.

but it's not as good as you,
not as sweet as you.

you're my favorite craving -
and i don't care about the toothaches
or the cavities
if it means i get one more taste of you.

in the midst of a dream
on thanksgiving morning
i was snoring away in a peaceful slumber when
firm hands wrapped around my stomach,
a couple of long fingers rested familiarly upon my breast

your hot breath was lighting up the back of my neck like a bushfire
your whiskers tickling the top of my spine
now i was awake.

you were breathing so heavily -
“go back to sleep” i mumbled, making myself smaller in your embrace
you got even closer against me
unbearably closer
whispering like you knew something i didn’t
“i just wanted to get your attention”

nothing was thought of that
i wanted to go back to sleep, after all
and you are known for playing games
but i don’t think i would be lying if i said that
my heart started beating like a mad drum
the hairs on the back of my neck stood up
and my whole body became the most awake it’s ever been
when you said
“i...love you”

i won’t forget that moment -
and i still have the biggest smile on my face that
is beginning to hurt.
“i love you too” i said so, so, so quietly
because i was afraid i was still sleeping in a dream
and none of it was real.
but we did go back to sleep -
and when we woke up again later
i knew deep in my heart that we had spoken those words to each other
in the world of the living.
and i am thankful for that.

hormonal surges
make me, force me, pain me -
they hold me by the back of my head
and spit nasty words at me
but all of that is routine.

the worst thing of all is -
they remind me
of how much i need you
they sneer at me
for crying when i have to sleep alone
they laugh at me
when i want to hear your voice just once
they yell at me
when i search for your scent on one of my old t-shirts

hormonal surges
bleeding from between my legs -
all of that is routine.
but how deeply i miss you -
that is something that makes me hang my
head in shame.

we've been talking for 47 minutes and 33 seconds
we already talked earlier today
i like listening to you ramble
makes it feel like you're actually next to me

i can see the way your mouth is moving
your hands lifting higher, higher, higher
as you get more animated
i can see your floppy, straw-colored hair -
your long fingers brushing it out of your eyes

you're talking about politics right now
and i'm really not a huge fan of politics at all -
it bores me quite a bit,
but i wouldn't mind listening to you talk
for the rest of the night.

we were sitting in my car
eating food that we shouldn’t have been eating
a comfortable silence existing between us
a single overhead light illuminating us

you looked over at me, gave a quiet smile
“you’ve got something on your face”
i shrugged and replied, “i know, i’m enjoying my food”

a delicate hand appeared, using a napkin to wipe the corner of my mouth
i chewed my food slowly, eyes blinking to the left in careful curiosity

“thanks” i replied, my stomach doing something other than digestion  
you took another bite
then looked over at me again

“can i kiss you?”
my eyes blinked to the left again
my cheeks turned a shy shade of pink
**** it, **** it, **** it

i turned towards you,
eager, smiling, wanting
“yes”

and you gave me the sweetest kiss -
there, in the silence of my car
out of nowhere, unprompted -
our food left, abandoned -
my stomach, feeling true butterflies for the first time -
an honest smile, never leaving my face.

“you are likely wounded by your understanding of love”

wounded like a kicked puppy
licking your wounds -
sharp claws on a marble floor
wet nose smelling someone that’s no longer there
licking your wounds -
the floor is slippery
with blood
with your messy understanding of love
licking your wounds -
no one loves a hurt animal

there are two types of creatures in the world
those that inflict the hurt -
and those that lick their wounds