J.

it’s strange to write about J because he is gone in the final way. one day that spring in the kitchen, his face flashed a smile so genuine my breath caught on something in my chest and a new timeline splintered off my heart like a branch. that smile lives inside me, a bookmark between one chapter ending and a brighter one taking its place. J and I have never been together not in the ways you’re thinking. he loved me when i was in love with someone else and it was my secret how much i loved his love, how it made me feel warm and selfish and gilded. sand slipping through my fingers i didn’t realize i wanted to catch. so beautiful i didn’t take seriously but always something more than nothing.

there’s a voicemail i saved for years, to hold the phone to my ear and sip on that love i could never make fit. collecting sand that blew through nights on the phone and eyes meeting across rooms, fingers finding each other on U Street, quickly letting go. i’ve learned we don’t need to worry about losing voicemails, losing memories, losing sand. because we’re fused of all of the love we’ve received, all the love we’ve ever given. every beautiful place and moment; become a part of our form, our voice, our shape.