cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

next to this

there are stretches of time i have believed that we do not exist separately, that when i call you at work you are merely in trapped in the magic of a phone line, in another room but down the hall, not secretly but hidden still.

last night i listened, as i do often, to you breathe, to the dense rise and fall of your life, to the dream you must have but don’t remember, or must remember but don’t recount. last night i laid close enough to touch but didn’t, just to remind myself that it is by the grace of life itself you are here with me.

i don’t believe it’s fate anymore, or romance, or comfort and habit, or even love. i believe it is the tangle of our roots, side-by-side clouds, or what keeps dewdrops on cobwebs. i believe it is nothing as complicated as human emotion; we have to be here; we are separate and until i was distinct from you i never knew what was so wonderful about your breath.

rise and fall, rise and fall. i am next to this.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

∞