paragraph 8

Who knows what I love you feels like, anyway? Like the lingering of a lost voice or the sting of licorice drops held under the tongue? You made it so easy to lose my head when the world suddenly shifted from flat and lifeless to gaudy three dimensions. I didn’t know what to do with it all. Didn’t know when to close my eyes and stop the spin. There just wasn’t enough room to stuff my pockets full of the angles and textures – leaving the inevitable bruise that remains from trying to hold something intangible in the palm of a hand.