all i know is, she said it first, to you, and i sat there, listening to your conversation, listening from a place out of your sight, a place where i could've cried if i wanted to but i didn't. i wouldn't have been able to keep my quiet calmness, to hear the words flowing between you and her. i wanted to know what she felt in you that pulled on her so strongly, and i wanted you to say no, no, to say no to her. instead you looked at her, and smiled at her, and i knew i was such a dastardly being to be listening to other lovers.
remember that time when...
i made up a love story
that didn't actually happen
that was perfectly plagiarized from another woman's dreams
the ones she had every day and every night
where you continued your pursuit incessantly
(instead of the other way around)
and said what you felt and meant what you said
and you erased the shocked, tense, bursting silence
with a...
happiness.
happiness on my feet,
lightness on my head,
a swoop deep in my stomach,
fingers frantically typing,
a blank
blank
page with short
short
sentences
without this,
or that.
the fan spins,
the air circulates,
and all that i can do
is breathe in
breathe out
breathe in
in
in.
silence.
remember that?
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