I had a love affair with you

that you didn't even know about.

Some dogs never leave their owners, they are bound for life.

The needing of one another;

the needling of thread to cloth.

Despite the rip, they continue to wait

because they know

they will be reunited again.

If anything, this they know.

Yet, you won't get to dry land if you don't swim to dry land. 

On my way I catch a glimpse of you, reflected on a shiny surface,

I move in your direction, quickly, stumbling, tripping, falling.

If I hold my breath I can hold you in my hands

you are moon on water.

There were times she could pretend.

She would sit at the kitchen table and stare out through the clear glass of the window
at the leaves as they came and went.

Seasonal stoplights: green to red, green to red, green to red to brown to gone.
Green to red, green to red, green to red to brown to gone...and again and again.

In those moments, the transitions weren't so severe - her memories floated in a pool with no floor and without edges. Her pain, her love. She swam effortlessly. She swam in lush circles. She dove under, without holding her breath.

 Meanwhile,

her body, at the edge of space, would reach out to touch a star. She would singe her fingertips and put them in her mouth to feel the warmth against her tongue. She became aware of the cool breeze, the water clinging to her skin, the sound of the Drop and realize she wasn't looking at the leaves through the window, she was looking at the glass : Again and again and again.

I guess I needed to be alone.
I guess I just wanted to be a part of being alive even if being alive was being what I wasn't.
I heard the wind chimes and saw the blue snow and the faint yellow on the horizon and
pushed.
Trusted.
Aliveness was always here.
I trusted it would wait for me.
Whenever
I wanted
to be alive
too.
I had to go home in white light.
How could I not?
I had to go home in white.