it was a year ago, almost. exactly eleven months to this day.
you were so far away from me, but I could hear every word you said;
we were in the same room and I was in disbelief,
taking in every breath you let out in symbiotic processes
long documented among the archives of scholars;
if i had moved a little closer i might have tasted your sweat–
it might have dripped into my pores that i might have absorbed your essence forever
(but that is obsession and this is not obsession)
i remember the darkness around us.
i remember the lights.
i remember that you swayed
and you curved
and you wound
like Arizona had overtaken your motor neurons, and i–
i was completely still,
everyone else was exploding on the spot,
black stars on their last legs: vortexes,
waiting to suck out the last of your syllables
and stretch it forever to play and replay for their own audiences, but i
i held you still inside me, humming inside me
and to this day the vibrations wash me still