if i look at him straight on i can feel you in the room and if i catch him from behind i can see you face down on gold street hiding your face in a pillow so i couldn’t see you letting go. pushing away. the universe has me looking at a similar face while hearing all the things i needed to hear you say and never did. this is the right place at the wrong time. we were always right time, wrong place. too much space to lose sight, too many winters, too much time for the heavy fog our bodies made to lift. it’s funny how no closure has left me so open. he looks at me the way you did. i lived on that look for years and starved when the electricity shorted. when he laughs i can see you on grove street, i can feel you wanting to love me and not knowing how, i can taste how desperately i thought i needed you to do so.

-tbrumm