He was an interruption. An indiscretion. An eye opening blindness that knocked out all of my senses. He told me he liked my freckles because they made me all the skin colors at once; I was unity. That his heart grew sizes after ours were placed side by side in silence. He greeted me with kisses. Like it couldn’t wait until the end of the night ,when it was fight or flight and just enough courage is mustered up to eliminate the space between faces; right before the moment you don’t have to face them any more. And in the kitchen and on patios and in mornings when our breath became a mixture of mouthwash and cigarettes. We learned the colors of each other’s eyes in stillness and I learned how eyes the same shade could see things so differently. He drew pictures on my backbone until I almost lost it. We laughed about things until they weren’t funny anymore. I had the lines of my hand traced until I found the trace of confidence to draw the line. I write complete sentences now and you can’t interrupt me anymore.
the length of waves 