You halted the moment you bumped on her. You were either twenty one or two and fascinated by the arts. You could pronounce Louvre and manage to link Notre Dame to her bosom. You spoke to lengths about modernity seeking that connection that would make you comfortable. When it became evident you could exist between the layers of each other’s skin, suddenly floors and walls became the humble fortress that you desired to be alone with her. You woke up beside her and it would have been nice if it had been real except you kept dreaming.
Weeks later you know you are in love with her but it bites you hard to open up because stars are temporary reprieves and you have no idea if you can keep waiting for the night each single day. You talk to lengths with her, conversations that seem surreal and for once you cannot tell why you can’t stop smiling, whether texting or in person. She says she cooks sometimes but she likes grabbing junk occasionally for the pleasure of surviving calories. You are just impressed and you would twist every word and junk her if only she … if only.
At a random day you ask about her love life, she says she’s been scarred more than she can recall or she is seeing someone. Suddenly you elapse like the time of a sprinter in a competition, you can feel yourself losing a race you never signed up for but you are already in the coffee joint and it looks like a stadium. People are urging you on, sipping their coffees and you can feel the delirium inside you. She’s talking but you can’t decide whether you want to turn into coffee and accidentally pour on her to have unrestricted access on her body or just sprint outside and never look back. But you are already in too deep when she asks you if you understand what she’s been saying. You only nod.
After parting ways, you can hear each single detail of nature buzz inside your ear and all you want is too shut everything out. In the next meeting, something happens as if she had taken notice or nature had grudgingly conspired to have it your way. She kisses you and if anyone would ask you to describe it, you would say “I don’t know man, it just happened and all I could think of is what it takes for one end of an ocean to meet the other?”
But then she left, saying sorry. Days later, you cannot hold it inside anymore and you text her desperately explaining yourself and ending with an “I love you” – she doesn’t reply. In the midst of all these, you would cut your fingers to join them together if only you would touch her. Nothing stings as poetry broken between the lips only for it to taste acidic. Once again you promise yourself to be a man about it. On meeting her you talk at lengths about uninteresting things and neither of you is willing to talk about it but you struggle and say it anyway “I love you girl” she smiles and says, “I know, I love you too your heart stops and she moves forward and stares hard at you “as a friend.” You cannot remember misplacing your voice but your mouth suddenly turns dry and your eyes struggle to impress your forefathers, you don’t cry! You say nothing.