ain’t always summer in june

I can feel it when I kiss him – the love, the last 4 years, me in Astoria holding on to a pillow that smelt like him and thanking the universe for his existence. And then I think about all the things that happened between then and this empty cup we hope refills itself. In love with each other for all the same reasons that keep us at arms length. And of all the things I’ve made sense of in my life, this is not one of them: how two people can love each other so deeply and still not know how to connect the dots; intimacy, to communication, to finances, to dirty dishes. Love alone does not sustain a life together. When I say left he says he prefers right and we go in circles around one another, reaching and retracting on a mood leftover from the argument before this one. Dizzy, drained, disillusioned.



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