aisle nine

these things are always broken into halves. they’re never whole or sated or completely there. it’s always half-empty and craving. there are parts of this that i’ve kept because maybe i was too selfish to let them belong to the backseat of your friend’s car or at the foot of your bed or in some abandoned moment you’d forget about later when the feelings were slender with all of their petals picked. the kinds of things i wish i could have just left with you because maybe then that would mean they weren’t that important to me. and when i tip toed across your hardwood floors i stood in the cracked door way for a second just fucking marveling at the way the whole place smelled like you. i know this is dangerous. i feel it too. i know that it’s volatile and uncompromising. and i know about pressing up against the rules just enough to crack them without letting them break. i know about letting the boundaries bend when they should have had you folded already. i know that sometimes you want pieces of people even though it’s erratic and impulsive and the consequences are heavy and waiting. so we try our hardest to walk into other empty spaces where we can let ourselves love someone quietly and without this shell shocked quality and we’re careful not to touch in splintering places where we’re swallowed in all the soft yellow noise. because sometimes you accidentally want people that just aren’t right for you. but sometimes you fill in the gaps with your own cracks and you say in soundless moments “okay. i’m in.”

--Ashli Wood