in response, my friend told me that he doesn’t simply miss me because to miss barely encompasses what he truly feels:
he said he wanted to share his life with me, to tell me about his world; to show me; and he wanted to know about mine
this desperate feeling without a name; to share and be shared
it was then that i had my first bitter taste of scorched earth- i pulled that pebble out from underneath my tongue, placed it on salty palms, and named it Loss
My grandmother in a baby blue dress
The sound my skin makes
last night I wanted to say “same”, but it somehow felt inappropriate
