evangel ink

You write about the way it feels
At the beginning
Like someone’s airing up a balloon
Inside your stomach
You write about urgency
That call across the wind
When you say his name

You become a scientist, a philosopher
An evangelist
You theorize, you believe
You write:

“The universe recycles atoms and maybe yours and mine
Were next to each other at the beginning.”

Maybe,
Maybe your collision was the big bang
That kickstarted the entire universe
Maybe the stories are true.

You write about the music
Symphonies and operas
Notes that save your life
You write about how when he looks at you,
It’s the plucked strings of a guitar
The resonant organ in your chest.

You write about how you didn’t want to fall
You didn’t need anyone and you had plans
You were solid and unyielding and stable—

But he crashed into you
And the world shifted under your feet
You were Pangea
He separated you into continents

You write about fear
And the warning signs
You chalk up to anxiety
That inner sound bite you can’t delete:
You never deserve to be happy.
You dare to believe
To shout over it.


“I am–
Brave.”

“I am–
Heartbroken.”

Here comes the letdown
The free-fall off a thousand-foot cliff
All the way down,
You write
Philosophize,
Rationalize:
The universe is moving toward entropy
So maybe we are inevitable disorder
Meant to dissipate into nothing

“I
Do not/
Am not
Matter.”

Bang.
You smash into the ground
You are blood and broken bones
Heart in shreds
Nothing catches you
You write

You think you might be insane
That dizzying drop
One second to the next
All in your head
You don’t understand

“If none of it was real…”


And you’ll try to figure it out
Try to define
But it’s all fragmented memories
And crossed out lines

Still.
Your hands will continue to type
And through blurred eyes
You’ll write.

—  “When a Writer Falls in Love”