Lost in midweek madness, after Twink Night at Apollo. Losing who I am. And maybe, for once, that’s a good thing. Slivers of colour and temperature, with Ms. Carey singing how I stay in love with you. One moment in time when everything’s alright, a second of contentment when everything melts and dilutes away, leaving me bare. Both soft and hard to the touch. I bite my fingers just to feel something, tasting the salt, running my tongue over them, committing them to memory. The coolness of inhale and warmth of exhale. The shivers in my breathing, the crackling of lips. The rhythmic rising and falling of everything in existence, as blood thrums in me, flows through me. And I am, for this one specific, terrific moment in my life, made whole.
For what it’s worth, even as my head tells my stupid bruised and battered heart to finally stop, I do love you, baby.