you don’t want to know,
but you’ll never be her,
and he’ll never be me—

he’ll never find you in the world.
you won’t sense his presence in the day;
there’ll be no greater gravity than ours.

you’ll no longer hold back kisses,
the ones that touch your throat,
but your laughter won’t touch the ceiling,
and the cravings won’t ache well.

and i’ll never read it
without thinking of you,
that waterfall of words—
the closeness we made,
that immutable connection,
the string that bonded us.

and the fear when the string went limp—
not because it frayed or broke,
but because we were so close,
there was no tension at all.

—

and i’ll never cut my hair.