Everything Leads to You

deranged, not preserved exactly right.

When you see their rooms and you discover that they love a certain band, or that they collect seashells or hang their clothes with equal space between each perfectly ironed shirt or have stacks of papers on their desks or a week’s worth of dirty dishes in the sink and bras strewn over brass doorknobs—all of that is us.

tightness forms in my throat.

traces circles in the sand.

‘If still loving you means I’m weak, then I’m weak.’”

They speak to our desires, which are never small