The first time I ever saw you in person,
It was about 3 in the morning.
You were frantically grasping at
all of your belongings buried in the back seat of your car,
As if desperately trying to grasp
a few last bits of sanity to carry with you through the weekend you were about
to spend with me.
That night, after months where
our sole communication took place
through phone screens and social media it seemed fitting that
We spent our first night together
laying in bed watching Youtube videos.
You fell asleep with the laptop
still on in your lap, a video still playing when I woke up
I was up long enough to turn off the
light, pause the video,
And to turn to see you, asleep,
content and at peace.
In that moment I realized that this was the
first time I’d felt butterflies in years.
The next day was a collection of
new experiences.
The French Quarter a bustling
metropolis,
Jazz musicians playing loudly in
the streets,
tourists soaking up their crescendos.
tourists soaking up their crescendos.
You and I wandered aimlessly
Stopped for gumbo and admired the street performers painted in gold and silver.
Next was Bourbon street, full of booze
and people.
I watched you down three consecutive shots at the bar we stopped at.
Tried to ignore how seamlessly
the alcohol poured down your throat,
How you swallowed it without
hesitation or discomfort.
Tried to ignore the way you had
your back turned to me as I drank my gin and tonics.
Tried to ignore the way you were
staring at everyone in the room but the “friend” you’d walked in with.
Next was Canal street,
in a drunken heap we stumbled there,
in a drunken heap we stumbled there,
Arms linked, smiles shared, I can
still feel your arm like an anchor
The one keeping me grounded as we
explored New Orleans together.
I remember us reminiscing about
the day we’d just spent
The way your eyes glowed as you
told me about how much you’d loved that golden street performer
And how they looked as you stared
into mine and told me that despite his shine
Being around me was the brightest
part of your day.
Caught up in this exchange we missed the ghost tour we’d signed up for but
It was okay
because though I didn’t say this
at the time
You were the best part of my day
too.
That night we smoked together on
the porch of our Airbnb.
You opened up to me and told me stories
of your past.
My entire body shivering but I
ignored the chill because I wanted the moment to last.
You were too busy peering into yourself
and uncovering your scars
to look at me long enough and see how much love
I was ready to pour into them.
Or even to see how much the
weather had me trembling.
But I listened, with as much
intent as I already had to help heal your brokenness,
To kiss the scars on your wrist I
had noticed and
To hold you in my arms and show
you how much warmth in the world there really is.
When you were done sharing, you
decided the cold was too much
Announcing it was time to go
inside and with that
The door you opened up to me was back to being shut.
I fell asleep before you did that
night
But later you crawled into the bed next
to me
I know because your presence
awoke me and
Immediately all I could think
about was how much closer I wanted to be.
All the months imagining what it’d
feel like to be near you but
I still felt like we were both distant.
After my heart stopped pounding
and my mind calmed down long enough,
I rolled over, put my head on your
shoulder and my arm across you.
You pretended to be asleep but I
could feel your heart beating so hard in your chest,
It was as if it was trying to escape.
We fell asleep like this, me clinging
to you
with as much love as I realized you could take.
That morning I woke up much
earlier than you.
My stomach was twisting into knots.
The anxiety was taking over and
All I could do was get up and try
to make sense of what I was feeling.
Rolled a blunt, went out to the
porch and made friends with the cats outside.
When I came back inside you were
still sleeping,
Again, I admired how much peace I
could see you were feeling.
I didn’t tell you that the anxiety
I was carrying was crippling.
I tucked the hypervigilance away,
used weed to keep me cheerful.
I tucked my thoughts away too,
the ones telling me that before I knew it,
this trip would be over.
the ones telling me that before I knew it,
this trip would be over.
Both of us would go back home,
and we'd both go back
to being strangers.
-Liz
to being strangers.
-Liz
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