after i left you i felt angry. angry that you didn’t fill the gaping&growing pit in my mind. i trained my eyes on the language of your hands and your body and came up empty handed. we had no language. breathing, thinking, and acting through a just like every day of my life. and i thought your story would be a reprieve. but the kisses were soundless and had no story, and i did not have the strength to create my own. brae said, this all started when “the boy kissed you and said goodbye when you weren’t ready” and a bunch of cringey and base metaphors about not liking apples and having the one that actually tastes like the best apple in the world and never getting to take another bite. my only regrets were that i didn’t talk, and never stop talking, all the way through, i wish the weight of my words crushed him rather than the weight of my body