I would have asked you to hold me just for a little while.
December has been gnawing into my bones all month long. By New Year’s Eve I feel like I could die.
I mourn the body in the pictures inside the frames on my dresser from seven years ago. From nine. From ten. From twelve. From thirteen.
I wanted to blame it on the sex. I wanted to blame it on the drug. But part of me knew I had just unlocked a thought and a feeling I wouldn’t soon shut.
Does he know last night you fell asleep imagining your hair could strangle him?
Sometimes it feels like that’s all I am.
I believe there’s something here. I believed you when you said there was.
Can’t you see the fire? Can’t you smell the smoke?
It was unexpected, but there was no reason for me not to take him up on flying me up there to see him. I’m me, after all, and I’m always craving something.
It was beautiful. It was reckless.