i fell too fast, i feel too much

You know those days when you leave your house and everything seems that much more intense? It’s like all the colors are saturated and you can feel everything in the world acutely. Like every gust of wind is hitting all your pores and your fingertips absorb everything you touch. And you’re walking down the street and everything seems somehow more clear and less fuzzy than it usually is, and you feel like the puzzle makes a lot more sense than it usually does. That’s how being with you feels. Like I don’t dissolve but instead get put back together and emerge stronger and ready to face the next day. That feeling lasts even after you leave but it doesn’t stay, because reality sets in and I remember that I can’t keep you as my anchor. That I’m probably just one of the ships that you help keep at bay. (If time is my vessel then learning to love might be my way back to sea…) It’s nice to know that the rush of blood to my heart will help me heal, at least for a while. Sometimes a band-aid is the most you can ask for, ya know? How do you measure the weight of a thank you? It seems wholly inadequate to use the same expression for the way you make me feel as I do when somebody hands me the change. Crippled again by language, terrified of what imprecise gestures imply. (The stars I will navigate though the holes in your eyes)