Falling In Love With Strangers

I wanted to write this down before I forgot about our 21st-century love story–of sorts.

To be honest, it’s difficult to read between the lines we diligently set for ourselves when communication comes in the form of blue, sometimes green, bubbles and read receipts and hello’s across ambiguous telephone lines and sometimes seeing your face through glowing screens. I’ll keep this brief but meaningful, just like our time together. One month was all it took, and little did you know, I could fall so damn hard and so damn fast for someone I had never met. I’m sorry we never got to share that spoon; I’m sorry we found each other at the wrong right time; I’m sorry life had other plans.

It was as if we were acting out the storyline of Before Sunrise, except I stayed on the train as you got off. There’s a profound sense of emptiness left–like everything is folding in on itself and I’m left to bathe in something that resembles silence, but more like a steady breathing that I’ve never quite heard so loudly before. It’s like plucking splinters out one by one. There aren’t many, but every once in a while I get poked, and I’m reminded that something doesn’t belong anymore. It’s more like too much space all too suddenly and more like back to square one.

I’m hoping this gets lost somewhere in the midst of love and life, only to be found by another type of stranger, someone who needs it the most. But for now, I’ll be treading water, not quite drowning, and dreaming sweet navy blue dreams.

There Is No Time To Grieve

I used to sit and dream of these moments.

I used to light cigarettes in hopes that the smoke would push my memories of you deeper into the abyss. But I could still feel them, lingering there like the faintest whisper of my name. I prayed—prayed to whatever was worth praying to.

I was a fool for you.

But heartbreak makes for good poetry material.

There is no time to grieve.

Life keeps going no matter how slowly you breathe, no matter how long you stare at those pictures: the ones of us holding hands, the ones of us smiling, the ones of you pretending you were in love.

I hate thinking about the time that has passed. Not because I dread the memories, but because they were all too sweet. Four years is a long time.

Four years is an eternity in the blink of an eye, it’s the moment your lips meet mine,

it’s every breath I could not breathe.