paragraph 2

It’s been awhile since I’ve allowed myself to think about us, and there’s something that happens in the span of time between words. A spark of anticipation that makes my fingertips buzz. That makes my head rock. Thoughts of your eyes – your soft skin – shape my lips into a grin like an indecent proposal. I wonder if you still bat ocean blue intoxication. If you still try to love too many people at once. Your eyes were like ice – the pleasing kind that you want to crunch between your teeth until your cheeks and tongue are numb. It’s nice to think of you this way. Before we exceeded the logical limits of words or explanations. Before I left your house trailing expletives and shared commodities like bread crumbs, without a moment to notice that I wasn’t even wearing my own clothes.