Somehow, saying goodbye for the second time is more difficult than I ever could have imagined. Of course, I was never imagining this moment again. The tropical glow of unadulterated love, weighed by our naked arms and legs entwined like plush braided rope. Your eyes drag their pointed blue across my chest — a melodramatic gesture like my fingertips inching to your inner thighs. And now, love, there’s nothing else but to live that and all its tragedy soaking the sheets into a sunset we’ll never share across an orange and purple sky. Our bodies, wet, pulsing, shivering in the abrupt thrill of our brief fantasy. The waves pressing down on our bodies into a silhouette of sand and the past, our moment washed away with the undertow of time and practicality.
We have become glacial icebergs, burying ourselves deeper into our ocean to drown the possibilities as they bobble in our own prisons.
I love you. Always. Now. Then.
I just wish. I suppose it’s silly for me to say certain things to you. I’m living in a past, present, and future fantasy that I wish could be if there was enough time. But “O let not time deceive you, you cannot conquer time. In the burrows of the nightmare where Justice naked is, Time watches from the shadow and coughs when you would kiss.” Time stands still for me; our lips touching made of shadow and yesterday, the beautiful taste of anticipation of tomorrow when our bodies drown for the last time.