you will fall in love with him in the woods.
it will threaten to rain and smell like october
after a drought year.
your tender blood
the waning of the light
will pull you inwards,
you will feel like you’re dying as you
collapse into your own lungs.
but you know this, you trust this,
and you will explain to him
that you won’t be ready until the spring.
he will tell you that he understands, but
he will ask if he can go with you.
if that would be okay.
he just wants to bear witness.
you will look over your shoulder to make sure he isn’t talking about
some girl standing behind you.
you will point at your chest and ask, me?
he will nod, and he will laugh, because of course
you will act like you’re thinking about it
for three weeks,
and then you will say, okay.
come with me.
he will thank you. he will kiss you.
he will say: i’ve seen you before,
i know i’ve seen you before,
you’ve got planets in your eyes.
and you will wonder–
has anyone ever been so unafraid to look at you?
he will press his lips against your forehead and tell you that
how can you argue with that?
you will tell him, baby,
we’re gonna hurt each other at some point,
you’ve made a name for yourself
off of being real after all,
but he will close his eyes and shake his head.
i’m not going into this like that, he will say.
you will nod.
you will say okay.