i thought about death last on a tuesday. i thought about how decay is supposed to smell sweet and i wondered what that meant for its taste. i have no intention to find out, though i know curiosity, like cat to mouse, has a way of digging her claws in.
i thought about life last night. not just the sunrise, or the stars. not just the way the world goes dizzy at the edges when you hold your breath, but the way that the air feels in the aftermath of a storm. particles lightning-charged with the same kind of life that lingers in the synapses of a brain at the edge of discovery.
this morning i thought about you. you. you are hard to fold into words. i find that your curves do not like the way sentences feel when i try to hold them up against you, to see if i caught your image within them. the comparison is as weak as i was when i saw you last tuesday, or when you smiled at me last night.
tonight? who knows. the thing is, i think these days i laugh more than i cry, but i still think about death. i haven’t looked at the stars in a while but i still see them, and i will always watch for storms. you do not complete me as i was a person before you, but i like that we could live alone. it means we choose not to.