You reach out to me when it’s dark enough that I won’t question your intentions. This is who we are now. This is what we do. We’re lonely and scared, and trying to pretend we don’t still dream of tasting each other after all these years. Maybe it’s wrong. But I’ve never believed good and bad are definitive terms. Maybe we’re dipping our toes in both things.

You tell me it never stopped for you. I bite my tongue so I don’t scream out, “ME TOO! ME TOO!” Now is not the time. Now is never our time.

My mother says when it is here to stay, love will come softly and not require so much heartache. But I remember how she fought with a dying love. A literal dying love. The way she held his hand under fluorescent lights and beeping machines. Love isn’t smooth sailing. Sometimes, you are crying at 2 am when the doctors tell you what’s going on.

My love, we are not smooth sailing, but I’ve never known anything that was.

All I know is it’s been so many years, and we still circle back to the spot we first met.

All I know is it’s been so many years, and you still tell me you find my face when you’re sleeping.

Should we be stronger than this? Should we learn to let go without holding on when no one is looking?

My knuckles are turning white from such a tight grip. Your arms are shaking when I’m too far from reach.

Let’s just admit it.

Baby, the only thing we’re worse at than being together is being apart.