When I wake I am already thinking of you. I am sweat soaked and so hot I cannot get hungry for anything besides you. In fever dreams I follow you up footpaths and lay beneath canopies of green – so many greens I do not have words for them all, entire crayon boxes of only green. I see your lips set seriously on your face – an expression I’d come to relish, a breath I learned to need. You told me once, you would wash away my memories, told me you’d drown them in the river so no one else could ever keep them. You told me how to finish you. There are words for this, folie à deux, a madness of two. But if I were to lose myself I couldn’t search the earth for a better location than you.
If I am asking for direction I am asking for you.
If I am traveling south I am searching for you.
If I am falling asleep I am waiting for you.