She's singlehandedly sending me to therapy
We tear ourselves apart, we build each other up, we pull ourselves together.
I open your letters to see the swoops and curves of your handwriting and the unpronounceable things we used to say to each other. I remember you standing tall in the lobby and mouthing something sacrilegious.
The word "tangled" gets caught in my mind, sticky like a piece of gum I'll give you half of.
Riding my bike alone in the park, my handlebars break again but I am ready this time. A few awkward fumbles of metal on metal, and they go from flaccid and inappropriately floppy to good as new, for now.
The way we love is freedom and captivity, purity and debasement. A practice. A system. A calling.