Five Years

It was an earnest fuck. The kind that lets you lay there afterwards and contemplate why sex is still enough. To change your criteria for happiness.

It was hard. It was soft. In the way all friends are. So many dominoes poised to knock each other down. We weren't even close.

It was a long goodbye to let go of it. Possessions happening to us. In stuttering attempts to know each other. That part of him I thought I owned. More than ample weeds to cancel out this garden.

So many utopias to choose from. Now that ours is gone.