we were a small raft, but both of us would always stick together.
from when we were young, we would swim, dive and eat like we were connected at the side
two otters, side by side no matter what.
as age swept away our childhood sparks, we rode the waves together and explored. floating away from our childhood, the places we lived going with it.
the raft we had spent our whole lives with slowly disappearing, but we felt as vibrant as ever.
we swam through every reef, trench and current, making sure to never stray too far from each other or our food.
i shared my rock with you in your lowest times, because to me you are my rock.
the one solid thing i can rely on, even when the riptides try pulling me away from you.
i shared my everything with you, only because you've done the same for me.
only because i know you'll always do the same for me.
people always say that childhood love never lasts.
our love has lasted longer than even the beaches.
while the stones and the sand erode over the years, our love has only changed for the better.
people always say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but something in me never wants to test that.
the only distance i want in this life is distance with you.
i fear that if we let go, if we lose grip of each other, then we'll float away in an ever ruthless ocean.
i'd do anything for you. i'd float out to sea with you.
but only if you promise we can stay together.
to Gaia
material proof of your existence
in the second softest form, a collection
of our favourite words from a shore foreign to us both.
you tell me you’re going to visit a museum
you sit on a windowsill,
your fingers tracing an assortment of shared tenderness
and i imagine i’m beside you breathing the same sights.
i would prefer to sit with you, to laugh in real time.
but for now i am satisfied with this, painted paris
view, something to hold onto
until it’s your hand i’m holding.