May 2012.

I prepare this resting place as an invitation for knowing; the way we breathe is more important than anything else when I look inside of you. So self-centered in the moments before we leave a room sometimes, like we inhale prayers, like your lips are whispers for only my eyelids. I miss not knowing you in a way that only future lovers can, I miss not knowing that someday I’d miss you. I want every part of your dry breath and every song that lulls you to sleep. I am trying to be sorry for someday falling in love with you.

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