this one-of-a-kind 1 a.m.

in the office backyard

 

how beautiful it is

to share a moment, a memory, a pizza, a smile,

how the sentences sound more coherent than they are

how the words feel more intoxicating than the joint

how the faces blur 

like they haven’t seen any clearer

how impossible it feels now

to forget that we forgot everything for a second

and broke down laughing

how contagious the giggle, how delicate, how piercing,

how eager i am

to gamble it all this moment

and break down that exact way all over again

and again

we look at one another

as if we’ve got a forever together 

and how it doesn’t matter if we’ve not

how the night rolls so much light into itself despite the darkness

how it knows the magic trick

how i get up from the stairs, 

lookup at the moon, wink a smile

how he knows everything

how i wish you knew too.

 

‘used to’?

i heard him call me endless

and i almost immediately believed it

as if i were the water                                            

that was roaring at our feet

back then believing used to feel easier

the person telling me, there’s no end to me, hadn’t ended seeing me yet

it’s an art, at my workplace, they say

being able to compress three hours of some encyclopedic content

into a thirty-second video that keeps you hooked

i learned it up close, from him

he distills 30 hours of his life into a 30-second phone call and offers it all neatly wrapped with a bow of cold disappointment to me 

‘it’s alright’ 

‘everything’s alright’

don’t i wish it were!

like that night when it was, it really was

the sea was loud

but our conversations were louder

and the air tasted of invincibility

and my curls were just the shade of the horizon in my eye

eyes that shone like the flimsy silver anklet on my feet

and i almost slipped on a rock

looking for crevices to burrow into

to be able to sit beside the sea and him

to be able to sit beside the sea in him

still rumbling like a storm

back then, how i used to look for the simplest of things in life

and be able to find them at the oddest places in the world

back then, how i used to find the oddest places themselves

and be able to call them home.

 

 

momentary mementos?

a tattered wallet. a snapped zipper. and a crumpled yellow post-it.

words on the paper, like tiny tethers of ink. each orange stroke, a cursive stitch to a moment.

to the moment.

the one that stretched too thin while it did. spanning only as wide as the smile you became aware of as soon as you became aware enough.

still, a moment you could pause for. a moment you did pause for. to take notice and to smile. to take notice that you had smiled.

 

broken things keep broken things safer.