Matching Purple Dildos From Paris France

Smith is in their leather jacket with the blue tiger painting on the back
Smith is using a baseball metaphor to describe my relationship with my roommate
Having harnessed a charm I will be thinking about all night
Could have landed differently at another moment

The memory was accessible to me
because I remembered what I said
about how I was feeling
It was inaccessible
because I couldn’t feel it again
without losing my mind
And the only was to know it
was to feel it

We spent years becoming who the other person wanted
In another one of life’s holes I guess

After we slept together you touched my bicep tattoo
An energetic representation of my childhood bedroom
You touched it and hummed to yourself
in a way that didn’t seem intended for me

Either/Or

Last summer I was obsessed with the doomsday clock and I slept on the floor
In the dark of your old house
I ate your ass
for like two minutes
It was the future

I can’t believe I’m telling you this
it’s so important to me

Last winter I was so heartbroken I spoke in a whisper at all times
You were either completely transported by what happened
Or it struck you as so stupid that you went along with it

I felt the heat of you
smiling next to me
Deep in the ass of summer
in the stingy wet grass
I was a fountain of pain

For a second it seemed possible that we might be
completely somewhere else

I look at you in the passenger seat and say,
want to kiss in my car?
It’s January
Something inside me has reached a fever pitch

The world ended just how Anabelle said it would
the little moons all over the concrete
I like to see the photos even though I felt bad at the time

When the moon passed over the sun
the light grew sharp and absent

I only thought about you seeing it
where you are
Where are you?

We’re playing spades at waffle house
when Noah tells me if I want to read his mind
I must first drop into my core

I air kissed you from five feet away then
immediately walked into oncoming traffic

Every story ends with
“it was soo intense”

Of course I’m gay in the past
I’m there all the time
Of course I’m sad we didn’t fall in love
I wouldn’t know how not to be

It was 2013
I belonged to a private hell
curated by every feeling I’d ever had
The space heater turned off after three hours passed

All these moments crystalized into one big memory
Which was eroded back into smaller memories
like a water cycle
And it belonged to me

“Like I belonged to my life”

Your life looked like everyone else’s, but it was different
In the sense that you were ready to drop it at any moment

You tell me that at your core
You are simply unbearable
Only prepared for yourself
after the warning that was your entire life up until this point
No one else would be

We drove through Buffalo on the way home
Your favorite city

There was a strange amber light coming out of and through everything
It was a feeling of sleep
that lingered past the jello museum
Miles down the highway

Mary Moore Dalton (b. 1994) is a poet from North Carolina. They are on twitter as @__lifehole.