J.

it’s strange to write about J because he is gone in the final way. that spring, one day 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 new, 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. he was sand slipping through my fingers i didn’t realized i wanted to catch. so beautiful i didn’t take seriously that i could take that love into myself but of course, looking back, there was 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. to catch some of that sand that blew away a long time ago. i’ve learned we don’t need to worry about losing voicemails, losing memories, losing sand. because you’re fused of all of the love you’ve received, all the love you’ve ever given. every beautiful place and moment; they become a part of your form, your voice, your shape.