Caitlin Collinsworth

I was in it for him. There in the space, in any space we could occupy together.

There are many questions I never know how to answer with my voice.

Will the spinning ever stop? Did our hands ever touch?

You are sleepy eyes and quiet smiles.

You will meet someone who loves you.

All of our hands were gripped tight to something. Phones, poles, ourselves.

I’ll tell you what my first mistake was. It was thinking it could be different.

Whatever we were, whatever we are, sealed inside here so I won’t have to wonder.

Day one of the cleanse and I feel pretty okay.

If you were listening you would’ve heard the snow.

I looked up more meanings, the delta can also mean uncertainty.

I fell in love in the dorm rooms. The concrete walls and a lack of sleep.

Don’t look at him or his pretty words. Anyone can call you beautiful, but few can feel it underneath. It’s just a word to fill a void, as though it’s any description of who you are.

And maybe one day I’ll be reading a book at the Laundromat. Some movement will catch my eye and then I’ll see you taking your clothes out of the dryer.

I was at a bar and it was so dimly lit. I wanted to laugh and tell you the menu must be terrible. They wanted it to be hidden, must be way we ere in the dark.

I could see my exhales in the air. My roommate and I were told not to walk under the tracks at night.

The man behind me asked if I had ever tried a kale muffin. I replied no and he hadn’t either. He offered to split one as he sat down next to me on a bench.

There is a skylight over my bed where I can gaze and see planes fly past at night. The blinking of lights where I imagine lovers being taken home. Their red and tired eyes sore for something familiar.