You get so alone.

What is it that racks us together this way; clanging, crashing- a sea of awkward emotions claimed dead? Was it that we read the same books, loathed the same films, sang the same music? It was, essentially, i think, a want of the way words tumbled down into hands, flipping them over and over until we could give them a name…and then hand them, to each other; an even trade under river rocks and ancient court house stairs. Now, it’s wicked electric the way your neurons fire in my dreams. Nothing lays dormant even if I couldn’t see your eyes; for three months, five months. You make me laugh. I wanted to hug you more than I hugged you goodbye.

(Could you tell any of these things?)

And then.

I fall asleep with my hand on my cunt, your face in my head, and someone else’s name on my lips.