There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1.

There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others.

Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million.

Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that.

There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for my love than he got.

But, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.

there is a sad song between my legs

after all these years it’s still you

bad tooth in my mouth

you, scar behind my knee from bad man in the woods.

all night i stay awake

in the morning, the white tongue of sleep runs over my flesh

and i am dead for awhile.

The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man’s body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life’s most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?

I remember shaking my head, closing my eyes, and falling sleep. Like nothing happened. And I wasn’t acting. I was fine. Really.. I was fine.
After calling you all kinds of names. After the fights. After the screaming.

Sometimes even after the tears that came heavy from you. I remember when I could always fall asleep. I could brush it off my shoulder and go on with my life as if you weren’t the biggest part of it. As if you were wasting my time, like my life got easier once I hung up. And I remember the tone in your voice, the pure confusion. You couldn’t believe I was going to fall asleep. You couldn’t believe our hardships weren’t enough to keep me up at night. And they weren’t.

Our last fight, you had this condescending tone in your voice when I said bye. It sounded nothing like you. You told me to stop acting like I was going to sleep well that night, to stop acting like I was okay.

Well you were right. Because I can’t do it anymore. I’ve gotten to a place far from you and I must’ve lost all my abilities along the way.

Now, lately, I feel the need to finish everything I start. I can’t hurt anyone the ways I hurt you. I can’t sleep anymore. In fact, I don’t sleep anymore. After the fights, though they aren’t with you anymore, I can’t sleep. I can’t let things go unsaid. I can’t brush anything off.