I fall out of orbit after 72 hours. Your vibrational force is weakened in the pull of my own insanity. I’m thrown into deep space, drifting without a tether. Only you can draw me back in, clasping your fingers around my soul, pulling me back into my Divine trajectory. But as I stray, your face gets lost in the backdrop of stars, until I at last close my eyes and pray to forget you.

How do I pray over this union? I want to wrap my arms around it and draw it into my chest, shielding it from all of the arrows turned our way. Taking deep breaths, I instead empty myself into it and pray you’ll do the same.

Every time she sees a cactus, her heart cracks back open, bleeding hurt all over her insides. The hurt colors her vision, dulling vibrancy to a lackluster grayscale. It muffles her hearing, deadening melody to a lifeless buzz. It desensitizes her tastebuds, quashing wine to stagnant water. It numbs her skin, anesthetizing the insides of her elbows to empty hollows. But her heart is not dulled, deadened, quashed, or anesthetized. Her heart is a throbbing, fiery ache of pain, longing for the desert.

I don’t know what time your train is arriving. Actually, I don’t know if you’re arriving at all, or even if you’ve boarded a train headed to this station. Yet here I sit in the cavernous arrival hall, counting the ceiling tiles as I wait. Every time the split-flap board clacks with updates, my heart pounds in my chest, thinking maybe this will be the train that brings you back to me. I should probably leave the station, walk out into the night and make my way home. But that first step outside the station’s doors may break me in half. Here at least I can pretend to be like the others waiting for their beloved’s track number to be displayed. It’s that feeling that is holding me together.

Shoot me up with your attention, injecting your gaze directly into my vein. Squeeze your fingers around my upper arm, piercing my skin with the needle when I wince. Hold the syringe in place, waiting until my skin flushes into rouge. Only then can you leave me, your hit having reached my void, numbing my aching loneliness.

Plant me in this rocky soil. Let me spread out my roots in search of liquid sustenance. The molecules in my toes were once a succulent cactus and I’m starved for native habitat. Return me to my desert soul.

Lead me through the forest until we come to the edge of our meadow, bathed in early morning light. Wrap the picnic blanket around my shoulders while we wait for the sun to warm the sky. Now dance before me, lifting your arms into the air, spinning until you collapse. I need to hear the sound of your laughter when you tumble onto the grass. The whole universe is contained in that sound.