you felt like the cool air coming in from an open window, all sheer and smooth. you were my serendipity, the first moment i saw you, i knew i was screwed.
i feel everything when you take my hand, gripping it tightly, smoothing your thumb against my palm. your nimble fingers, your scorching breath, and your slightly tousled hair.
somewhere else, all of this meant something more.
somewhere else, we don’t ask for each other’s forgiveness because there’s nothing to be sorry about.
somewhere else, our names are burned in each other’s throats and i don’t sleep thinking why i’m not enough.
somewhere else, i would not be writing all of this.
you were my serendipity, my change, my longing for freedom.
you are my constant reminder of how painfully attracted we are to the detrimental. it’s sad, too bad i’ll never be enough. too bad i’ll never be him.