innocence flickered in his eyes just the way a light flickers in the dark, as a bad sign of what is to come. though some people just like to dismiss it as bad connection. but i could sense it in the way he wrote his name in lower case. the way he told me everything just by holding back the right amount of words. when i write about him, i overwrite words and highlight the wrong letters. when i write about him, i try to convince myself that i don't. my mouth can hold all the lies he never got to tell me. that makes it harder to take a gulp sometimes.
he asked me if there would be a day when i would stop loving him. i don't answer.
history always looked good on me, anyway.
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Hiraeth: A Collection of Poems
PoetryHiraeth: a Welsh concept of longing for home. A type of homesickness, but for a home that you can't return to, or one that perhaps never existed. Aren't we all looking for home?
