New Orleans 2017

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.

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,

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.

Both of us would go back home,

and we'd both go back
to being strangers.

-Liz