Found this in the depths of my notes. Written several years ago.
dogs teeth encircling his joints
more piercings than facial skin
he shares his name with your favorite weather pattern
like a meteorologist in love you think of him every time the word hits your ears
is this how it is?
going around in circles
the kind of orbit that pulls tides
and leaves salt in the cracks of your palms
you trace the patterns he leaves behind
like constellations you'll never name but always recognize
his laughter is a storm breaking over the horizon
the kind that washes everything clean
he wears his history like a second skin
scars and ink and metal all tangled together
the sky outside is heavy with clouds
you wonder if he's thinking of you too
or if you're just another echo
another ripple in a pond you didn't mean to disturb
is this how it is?
spinning in place while the world moves on
holding onto something that's already gone
•--♡--•
