honest, abe

you taught me about worlds,

and how

to enter them.

to leave my safe and comfortable

thought,

and welcome new.

we worshipped at the altar of each other,

tithing love notes and candid moments from our

camera rolls.

waging war on “i” to better understand “we.”

we drank greedily

from that well,

unaware of the drought to come.

unaware our gifted manna expired soon.

unaware of our capricious youth.

after exhausting our best intentions,

co-dependence acted as our tether, as

our harness, as

our muzzle.

but now,

sometimes, my eyes can miss your curious face gazing at the world, at me. now,

sometimes, my wrist can miss your teasing fingers tracing the borders of my knuckles, tattoos, and freckles. now,

sometimes, my lips can miss your gentle breath pressing into them, your taste, the dance. now,

sometimes, i wonder where our orchids are,

if you kept the ring,

whether you fondly recall our time,

or if we ever ended up making it out

alone.