"I hadn’t known that a light could be a feeling and a sound could be a color and a kiss could be both a question and an answer. And that heaven could be the ocean or a person or this moment or something else entirely."
"The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves."
"On a night like all the other nights,
she leans in, mouth stained red with wine, and whispers
“You know it’s always been you, right?”
Then she wants to kiss.
Then she wants to talk about love like it
isn’t a promise to you, and you let her,
because you’re lonely and you’ve only ever been hungry for this.
On a night like all the other nights,
she goes home with him, instead.
She messes up his sheets and wakes
up tangled in him like ivy growing up the side of a house, and it isn’t you.
You realize it’s never going to be you.
Remember what she sounds like when
she tells you she loves you,
when she wipes her nose with shaking hands and says you’re the only woman, the only soft she ever wants to sink her hands into.
Find the lie and hold it between
your teeth like a grenade pin.
Go home alone and pick the shrapnel
out of your chest.
How can you do it?
How can you love her when she takes it all out of you and keeps it?
Oh, but you do, on the nights like all the other nights,
on the mornings when
she wakes up and kisses him honest.
You will always be waiting for her,
like a train that never comes,
a phone that never rings,
a hand that never holds,
and nothing will ever feel more