Someday my footsteps may only echo here like empty hallways in a house that was outgrown. Our relationship will age like old floor boards in the kitchen that has seen time betray love, and life, and something burning on the stove.
We were burning baby, but we never saw the flames, we were like old newspaper in the fireplace on a cold day, our fire kept us so blind, we didn’t realize the ashes we were becoming, we couldn’t feel the temperature until we were already rotting flesh, we loved dying carcasses but it didn’t matter because we were only 18 and unapologetic for not being able to be perfect, for not being able to stay clean and pure.

But thank god we were able to accept what we were not willing to change in the moment. You wondered when we would have a picture on my coffee table, and I wondered when you would stop telling me about the girls who also held your heart. And sometimes your thoughts consumed you and sometimes I regretted ever letting you consume me.

But here we are, picture framed, frozen on a wall thinking “wow, has time changed” from early spring when we awoke Like early April flowers and now beg for rain to Quench our thirst in August, praying we can make it through another season with bruised rib cages and thinking it is in our nature to be wandering souls like eve and an apple resisting a world full of sin.

Could the winter be too harsh for us