blue.sea.slips

we’re opposites, dear

you’re crying. you’re sitting a bit a ways from a dad and his kids and you wonder if you ever noticed people cry as a child. you’re crying openly, because you dropped your fork a few years back and never bothered to pick it up, or even part ways. then there’s the child, walking around and she looks at you and you try to smile, wondering if she’ll remember that you looked like a fountain from the nose up.

she won’t.

she won’t remember anything.

sad.

sadness seemed so superfluous as a kid, you think. you walk away with your arms linked for support and wonder if this is how everyone was because you can’t remember sadness, just like you can’t remember the rain
in January.

blasphemous.

you’re not sure though, because nostalgia hits you like your third glass of wine, (or fifth) and your face becomes numb from the lips outward so you don’t even know if your smiling but that’s all you do. you know it’s all you’ll remember. no bitter conversations about antidepressants gone wrong or friends gone missing, all you’ve got are pieces of love strained from blame, wishing you could fit each other in your pockets, just to keep each other safe.