in a fallen state

journal lost. sorry.

The world walks all over me and I walk all around the world with the hopes that I will one day reach a place where I am wanted. It is not easy, being in love with phantoms and memories. It is like a funeral you hold everyday and the pyre is ablaze within you. I still remember the day we sat at the cafe near university where the blue light shone on your face. I had never seen a man so beautiful before and I have not seen you in that light for a long time. Everytime I crumble on your floor I think this will be it; I’ll either never come back here or die tonight. I think of Romi, and his infrequent calls that light up something in me. Someone, somewhere still thinks of me in moments of stillness. I think of Eva last January, a cigarette shared in the golden light of her room. I still see her that way. I think of Arpu on the bed, a childlike posture holding the world in that curvature. I think of it all and then I crumble a little more, broken sobs punctuated by my body falling further into you. 

I don’t die. I don’t leave. I fool myself by saying this is it. Then I spend the entire night hearing you wheeze and breathe. I touch your face, your arm and that horizon between your neck and shoulder wherein I want to fit myself and go wherever you go. 

I wish this were the past I am talking about. Tomorrow will come over and over, a thousand deaths unto myself.