i spent the evening with my toes in the cold grass, wet from the hose my mom used to water her flowers.

the sun had already set but the sky still illuminated the yard with a pale dim blue.

i was busy catching crickets with my dog,
and i wanted to tell you, but i deleted the message.

sometimes it feels nice doing little wholesome things & not telling another soul about it.

i spend more time thinking about you than i should.

i read that one day we will experience looking at someone we've looked at countless times, but with love for the first time.

i think that time was today.

when i said hi and you looked me right in the eye & smiled something soft and blushy-pink, goofy but sincere...

and for the first time, i allowed myself to look...to hold your gaze. to not glance away, in fear of feeling something again.

google search:
"what counts as physical assault?"

                                ~ as if my experience is less than valid to count.

i accidentally typed "ana" instead of my full, real name
into the blank document.

and for a brief moment, i felt like a different person,
like i assumed the persona, the qualities, the life of whoever "Ana" would be.

and in that brief moment,
i felt real, counterfeit, foreign, familiar, and birthed anew. . .

he's a soft place to land,
where the black doesn't turn white
but gray at the very least.

he is the comma in a sentence,
the moment amidst the story
and every time after.

he uses our friendship
to end debates,
his bathroom soap smells sweet like sticky dates.

the world moves south but we go north,
against the current
and we're heading straight for the storm.

a gut-wrench. stomach tumbling like an olympic gymnast. butterflies (not the good kind). feeling the wind being squeezed out of my lungs by hurt like a go-gurt tube in a toddler's merciless grip. the sweet taste of cinnamon coffee cake turns sour in my mouth like month-old freshly churned butter. speechless (not the good kind). my eyes become kaleidoscopes. i knead the ball of socks in my hands that i was in the middle of putting away. "hello?" he said on the other end of the line. but i cannot move. i cannot speak. i cannot breathe. i can only feel. feel the panic. the way it moves...creeps and seeps into every crack and crevice of my bones, blood-filled veins from limb to limb. the panic that i may not be enough. i can only think. think too much. think too much. think too much.