Grab my hand.

I walk down the steep, gravel path to lecture hall. Next to me he shuffles forward at a relaxed pace. Little pebbles spill down the hill as our heels clunk against the concrete.

Broad daylight means he won’t show me affection. The sun makes it too obvious that he might like me, that I like him, that we could possibly be together, and he doesn’t want our peers to realize that. It’s a secret. He hides it up the sleeves of his oversized flannel. I tug at them, trying to pull it out.

__

11PM he shows up outside my dorm building, embracing me in a warm hug hello. No one is around; it’s late on a Wednesday and everyone is in their dorms socializing or eating chips or doing homework or watching TV on this chilly night. It’s dark, but the automated building lights flicker on as we depart from my dorm, illuminating his wandering eyes and timid smile.

He grabs my hand as we walk down the steep, gravel path to the center of campus. I feel shy and nervous. The placement of his fingers feels uncomfortable and I’m all too aware of it, wondering if that’s all he can concentrate on, too. A simple interaction that symbolizes deep intimacy. We’ve only known each other for three weeks.

__

It’s no longer sweater weather. I sit cross-legged on the bench, sun beating down on the top of my head and melting down the ice in my coffee. I try to read my textbook but it’s distracting, too many bees buzz around my ankles. It’s early May, a couple weeks left of the semester, and I’ve now spent 17 days in a row with this boy. Dusk to dawn. One building to another. His room to mine. Often concealed by the night sky, our budding relationship exhilarates me, and I don’t want to go back to the city. I don’t want to live more than five minutes from him.

He spots me and approaches. Rubs my arm and closely smiles, eyes glistening. I smooth back his soft, brown hair, but quickly pull away, embarrassed by my own endearment in the bustling midday environment.

What are we? He seems so exposed in his plain white t-shirt than he does in his colorful flannels that I’m so used to seeing him in.

crumby table tops

dirty sheets

star decals on chipped white paint

boiling water

cold slabs under heels

fresh linen wafting from the back room

holding hands

touching noses

tangled string lights clumped upon the carpet

one gone

four left

nostalgia awaits

its presence prolonged

sitting outside the broken door

smeared with black shoe stains

the portal to a room of jaded air

when leaves dip from lush green

crusting to a bittersweet copper

falling upon a different place

the girls come home

stone faces melt to smooth magma

velvet bodies whirl beneath the covers

different year

magic rules stay in place

mentalities that clash at noon

seamlessly converge as the sun sinks lower

one gone

four left

one of my favorite phenomena is how a song can swing my mood into a complete 360.

i sit at the bar, sticky at my fingertips, faint smell of dried beer and lemon pledge.

empty leather seats at either side. i give a sheepish smile to the pretty bartender, blonde-streaked hair pulled back into a pony tail, tight black shirt to expose her tanned and slender arms.

suck on the rind of a leftover lime wedge.

murmur to the melancholy song quietly buzzing around me.

couples moving together on the dance floor, slowly undulating their bodies in time with one another. legs against legs; waists against waists. too drunk. never too happy.

i feel a pang in my heart. tenderness and longing suffocate me as i try not to make eye contact. stare at my peep-toed shoes balancing on the edge of my stool.

i manage a solitary stumble out into the cold air, revitalizing claks on the crooked pavement echoes into the distance. bitterly lonely but finding solace in being alone.

the cab arrives and i sink into the backseat, grey, soft material, returning to a private space. just me and the driver.

radio plays. a song comes on from my childhood. fast, peppy beat. pop music that i’d missed without realizing that i’d missed it.

he drives quickly on the streets leading to my room. blurry lights swirling around me and inside my head, bouncing off the whites of my eyes, a stark contrast against the black of the night sky.

i tap my heel on the floor to match the thumping bass.

the cab driver sings along, words pleasantly marred by a slight accent.

looking out the window, grasping at the distance, lyrics blooming inside my mind, i fall back into myself again, gloom diminishing. too easy to forget there’s more to life than only present experiences.

the past, the future. things change so quickly.

i was a different person in the past, and i can be a different person in the future.

i can evolve into whomever i want to evolve into.

and it only takes one song to remind me of this, dragging out buoyant memories of my innocent youth. waking me up again from my languid sorrows.

My hands irrepressibly shake

Under the scratched-up table.

The cup lies shattered across the room

From where I threw it.

My tears complement the red wine drops 

Scattering the tablecloth.

I sit on the creaky wooden chair,

Face burning with shame, head feeling numb

Embracing the importance of patience.

It's weird to share a

cry with someone you love

but haven't yet known 

for one year.

To see him in this fragile state

knowing you have an 

emotional hold so strong

you produce a physical reaction 

from the crevices of his mind.

I want to sail through his brain and

figure it all out

but he won't

let loose the rusty anchor 

and I know

the waves are going crazy

far, far out on this

infinite sea of 

intelligence and

creativity

and sadness.

I want him to serve as my boat, carrying

me above the wildest waters

but he won't take me from the shore,

protected on warm, flat sand,

for fear

I would drown.

And maybe the dry land is better

than his

salt water sea

because even he doesn't know

what lies beneath

the quiet foam.