remember when you were my boat and i was your sea

I.
I still remember the feeling of foreign skin against my own as if it was sunlight caressing the flesh wrapped around my bones. I was a sea too perilous to be sailed and yet you took your rowing boat from the shore to the horizon just to witness the sunset

II.
Remind me again why I still hear our laughter coming from the walls of this room as if they were engraved into the cracks and spaces of our effervescent times filled with wind, air and soul. It is a foreign language I have not been able to translate since you left.

III.
The bottles empty and I’m fumbling in my jeans hoping my pockets could keep the spare change I wasn’t able to hold when it was midnight and we needed a cab ride home. I’m tripping on the pills I couldn’t swallow at the time you made me spit the words I didn’t mean. Can the sun rise faster because I cannot tolerate the darkness of light any longer than I can walk a straight line to my empty bed.

//letters I kept under my bed, c.j.s