07.14.02 - 1:01 pm
some sort of hole.
i fell, clinging like mad for the edges of edges, because the prospect of hitting you, full impact, was more than i could take.
and love, he said, is an abstract of dimensions.
i don't know about dimensions, or about abstractions of thought, so much as i know that you and i are shapes.
you: black with green edges.
me: inside and out.
and though we never met eyes, never travelled the distance between us and the room, i wished i could wrap my arms around your frame. keep the hole from spilling out, onto the tables, mirrors, everything.
the closest thing: your palm. the small of my back in a kind of passing. unintentional, perhaps, but noticed nonetheless.immediately after i wanted to run you down and throw you around, a lazy susan heave, to kiss you until you knew just how much i wanted to be dragged in. down. to the bottom of the hole.
because it's nice down there. with someone else.
