It’s really weird having parents who separate when you’re a little older because instead of shaping your perception of love, it just sorta destroys it??
There are only so many parallel universes
that concern us. In one, he isn’t dead.
In another, you drink light with your hands
all winter. There is a universe in which no one is lying
emptied in the street as the gas station burns, a universe
in which our mothers haven’t learned to wrap
their bones in each small grief they’ve found.
remember the first feelings, how sharp and magical they used to be, they way you felt during your first love kiss, how scared you felt driving a car for the first time. the first day of school, when you fastened your seatbelt the day you got on a plane for the first time. feelings that got pale and dull by routine. don’t forget
