End of the Rainbow

The magnet under my skin throbs. Something opposite must be near. The tunnel in every word moans. The dark yawning loud. There wasn't a pencil in his hand, but there was one in his look. The act of trying to remember knotting his stare. The ways in which we distinguish here from there are the only reasons we ever let them leave us. Always striking the tops of these mountains with our tiny hammers. Enlarged by how small we've made the pieces of this giant.

Always unsure. Toes teasing the water. I watched him dress himself and grew used to the clothes. Quickly forgetting the skin. That feeling of submerging myself in someone else. The tension on their surface keeping me down.

He said he'd be back, but I knew he wouldn't. It's just one of those lies we have to tell. It takes more courage not to come back. Sneak inside that costume. Discarding all those other skins.

Dwarfed by the burst of permanence afterwards. I can't help taking things apart just to see if I can put them back together again. It's my best and my worst trait.

All the things I once thought I couldn't live without are gone.

And now I know I was right.