225,623 miles

That first night, you made me feel like a foal just born, unable to stand, legs sticky and shaking. I watched my hands tremble as they finally covered the spaces they had hungered for, inhaling the hollows and expanses of your entire form. I wanted to press, fill, and feel every space, leave a mark on every part of you, but the marks only burned me, mercury fumes leaving a daguerrotype of you in my hands, my heart, my mind. Now the hollows and expanses between us stretch infinitely, in time, geography, and experience. You are my moon, and I am tired of waiting at the shore, my heart thrumming with a hundred water horses kicking spittle. I am ready to wade in the froth, to be ocean, swelling and receding, heaving and staggering in response to you. 225,623 miles away but love’s gravity pulls my body to yours and everything you do triggers a deep current in me. What I wouldn’t give for one more sleepy subway ride, one more stolen moment in unfamiliar rooms, unfamiliar beds with your familiar body, to once more feel the safety of fear, to be so afraid of my capacity to love.

 

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