We wrapped our fragile bones around each other
in a frantic kind of love, of fear, of trying to stitch our hearts together before distance tore everything apart.
Do I miss him?
I miss his laugh, the arch of his eyebrow in question and concern, his spindly fingertips continually reaching out to lace with mine.
My avian lost boy.
We are so lost, hurtling over concrete miles to a house away from home.
I remember tangling my hands into his ivy hair, trying to calm the shaking bones underneath his pale skin.
Everything was tinted into shades of emotion, too much and not enough all at the same time.
the fear the fear the fear the fear, the knowing of the loss ahead and the happiness left behind.
the anxiety of possessing hope for the future… the saying “maybe we’ll try again” has no timeline, has no base in any promise or truth.
Empty words falling out of bleeding mouths to comfort those who are naive enough to believe a lie.
I was naive.
And then I was hopeful.
And then I was jaded.
I hope to God that one of these days I will be wiser.