wistful thinking

Then he remembers, descending into the molecules, what love feels like: huge, skin on skin, planets impinging.

this is going to sound mopey, imagine.

i remember.

i remember biking home at 2 am, the stars were exploding, the moon a bullet hole ripped through space leaking, no spewing, something powerful and vibrant.

i remember my guts being squeezed as she told me what she was living, wanting so badly to reach down and pull her up, knowing that my stomach was telling me how much i cared.

i remember myself lost in ceiling stucco, in those minute mountains, feeling myself at the summit, buffeted by wind, amazed that i would sleep beside her, just sleep.

and now i try to convince myself, now i lie. or wait.

those were nice times.