You were not mine but I still held on
almost too tightly as if you were,
as if denying the body a moment
can really prove its own longing.

Together it is almost 
too much to keep
some sense of infinity 
blossoming between us. 

But the smallest details belong to no one.

The way we would cling in our sleep
because the quiet after is when 
we become the most tender,
and you’d smell sweet like summer rain,
you would forget your own loneliness
long after I have trespassed inside.

And your eyes seemed seized by
beautiful exploding flares forever
seeking closure like our bodies 
come into this world incomplete,
always drifting to some other half,
unrepentant of who’s left in our wake.

I don’t really want forgiveness anymore,
I just want to understand. 

You were not mine but I moved through you
as if you could never be anyone else’s.

Together it is almost too much to deny
a darkness blossoming between us 
the farther that I keep reaching back,
this storm that still haunts our bodies,
you still taste like summer rain. 

You remember it as well as I do
or however much we can truly
recall from our most invasive fevers.

The smallest details leave their marks
in places that only lovers can trace again.

Your back against damp leaves nesting
so quickly around your skin that I believed
the wet earth would soon devour us,
that the rain would never stop battering
as we cried out names with the thunder.

Our own prayers carefully mouthed 
against nature’s inevitable violence,
just murmurs haunting the mist,
floating towards a violet streaked sky.

Together it may be too much to keep.

You are not mine but I still whispered
to you vows only a soulmate should receive.

And that I don’t want forgiveness,
I just want to understand.

You still taste like summer rain.


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