deepening as it pulls me from the inside, a sweeter gravity. I miss the ones who could read my eyes, neutralizing the necessity of speech. I miss being known.

What is intimacy if I do not know it already.

I’m listening to a playlist of new-to-me music. It’s so good. (I got you this.) (And this, as a treat.) Watching smoke trail to the ceiling and wandering this little corner of the universe, interstellar garden path off to the left up ahead. That’s me, barefoot on the grass watching snails. Deciding not to impose. It’s not really easy when all of you is loud. Heavy, warm, those things that are difficult to ignore that I have made it such a point to be. Letting her go. Letting her go because I need to be effortless again. Faith, right? Right. It’s quiet because it doesn’t have to be anything else, little bird. I can be the thing that I need.