I knew you were afraid
of falling
in love.
I never said
(but I wanted to say,)
“don’t.
don’t fall in love.
stand up
in it.”
an eclipse reminds me
that when you lose
enough of something
it becomes something else.
I came to you entirely
terrifying
and at just the wrong enough time
for it to be disguised as the right one.
Time is
an unrelenting god.
the year I realized I loved you
was the same year that unloved us both
the year you lost and lost.
If grief is love out loud
you were always singing.
you are always singing.
Once, it was Johnny Cash’s Hurt at karaoke.
in a space historically hellbent on joy
you sang loss alive.
We had
four seasons
of shedding
version after version
of ourselves together
until what was left was me
wiping snot on my jean shorts
at the sight of you
swan-diving off of our story
again
as if you only feel
in control
mid-air.
I pulled you off so many ledges
but the moon pulls the tide
not the other way around.
Wouldn’t it be so much better
if no one carried anyone?
I can see us standing
Upright
walking
forward.
an eclipse isn’t forever.
it becomes and unbecomes
until it is a whole
and brand new already.
on my most hopeful days,
that is what I wish for us.
& 