I Fell In Love

I fell in love on the green line about 100 times — on the way to interviews for jobs I would never get, through college campuses to the promenade. I fell in love with morning stubble and afternoon coffee. I fell in love with basement shows and parking lot bottles. I fell in love with a song I could not sing. I fell in love at night and out of love by day. I fell in love with a dancer until he watched me sway. I fell in love with a love I will never know. I fell in love with leaving before anyone else could go.

I fell in love with the masculinity of my muse, I fell in love with the femininity of my fallacies. I fell in love with the deep belly laugh of a limitless child. I fell in love with a traverse town in a kingdom of hearts. I fell in love under a canopy of dead leaves where cough syrup breath still lingers. I fell in love with a self-fulfilling prophecy. I fell in love with “prose” and “woes” and “so it goes…” I fell in love with uncertainty and dissolution. I fell in love with the sharp inhale of pollution.

I fell in love with shooting stars and the moons of Saturn. I fell in love with the burn of bourbon. I fell in and out of love with a reflection. I fell in love with imperfection. I fell in love with dirty dishes and being late on rent. I fell in love with an idea — time and time again. I fell in love with lovers like I fell in love with friends. I fell in love knowing that love eventually ends. I fell in love with letting go — I fell in love with what’s done is done. I fell in love with everything and I fell in love with no one.