i.
you smiled at me today and I’ve already carved out
room on my bookshelves
can picture our novels growing old
side by side
gathering dust like a measure of our
infinite intimacy
there’s the desk drawer full of love letters and
lipstick kisses
the mug destined to warm your palms
on autumn nights
the imagined soft dance under the
kitchen moonlight
all at once my home is littered with scripture
kneeling before you
the emptiness of my little life moulding
itself around you
until my hand never existed without
holding yours
ii.
was the sky always this pink or is it the cotton candy
feeling in my chest
a light projection of forecasted memories
and polaroid montages
a hazy neon glow surrounding my
heart?
the sidewalk roses that smell like your perfume
the corner café playing your favourite song
the ocean waves reminiscing over your hair
as long as your hand’s within reach, I can will it all into
something prophetic
pull out signs from the universe like magic
ribbons
connect stars from different constellations to
reveal a divine message from the gods
iii.
how naïve I was to think there was only one I could love
when loving a girl is as easy as prayer
an innate repetition as unconscious as
heartbeat
a sea of soulmates lying at the intersection
of choosing
I don’t even know you but I’m a little bit entranced by
the version of you in my head
a little bit enthralled by the possibility of
stillness
a little bit inclined to say hey. just stay
here for a while
given the chance I think I could love every
version
place little pockets of all this desire into
alternate realities of you
float away from the life-long longing of
lightness
iv.
when Sappho said I cannot weave
when Mary said why not together
when Audre said moving into sunlight –
here we all are, falling to the beat of
every cliché
yearning for an exceptional defiance of exceptions
themselves
deluding ourselves into thinking we’re the
first to have discovered salvation
but God, if this is what it’s like to almost love a girl
then I’ll invent a whole religion out of this
sleep a thousand or so years in a
non-existent cave
run back and forth for miles for the
promise of spring
v.
the truth is I cry in every airport and
every train station
crave the kind of love that comes from
reunion
the kind that makes homes out of people
and temporalises every goodbye
so darling, if love isn’t meant for me then
I’ll will it into existence
grow butterflies in my stomach and tend
to them softly
take every word and every glance from
you as confession
because after all, what is love if not a conscious
choice to see the sky as pink
to chase sunsets but still think of
beginnings
to smell the roses on the sidewalk and
give them a name