i had that dream again. where we broke each other open like pomegranates on rainy sundays, and shared the minuscule insides of our human construction. i understood your attraction to the hawaiian islands, and you contemplated darkly on my draw towards a specific sound created by a machine gun long obsolete in the modern world, embodied by dead soldiers and wars who's cause has long been forgotten. i murmur the same whispering thoughts to a dozen girls hoping to hear the right answer. and if that answer comes i am unsure of how it would be dealt with. i want you to break me from this nostalgia. to tell me i've made the right choices. i want to watch your mouth wrap around the vowels which argue a life i feel so awkwardly suited for. what difference could we make? you and i? i lose it. i lose my rational, and my convictions when you're close. i can't separate yourself from me. i drink your presence like a soldiers last dose of whiskey before the cannon fire burns the grass. our senses fuse and we take on each others delicate burdens between the consultation of our pressed lips. my ear is drawn to your belly like i will hear some inequitable truth about myself in you, something to solve everything. and the only answer i get is to be
c l o s e r.
the veins in your pinky toes are the roots i grow from. i wish you wouldn't underestimate how often i think of you.