Yes, I loved him like the wind

I think I loved him like the wind;

He never did like the wind;

He said it brought about too many changes.

It stirred disorder in hearts and turned soil up in all the wrong places;

When I swept in after the storm surges, I prayed to be the only disaster he’d worry about;

I kissed him exactly three weeks ago;

His hands fit my hips like Tetris blocks;

His lips tasted like vodka and the minute hand’s precision;

Precision. Precision;

That is what he loves.

That is why he lines his left arms with exactly seven cuts of the same length and severity;

He even rips his own life apart with precision;

I want him to come back to me when the weather is dangerous;

I want to take him by the hand and seek out shelter from these storms;

Yes, I want him to greet me scripted, kiss me on cue, touch me for once without washing his hands;

On days when he thinks too much, I wonder how someone like him can stand next to a girl who stutters her “I-I-I-I love you’s” and let’s them soar away by breeze to be heard among clouds;

No, not even the wind could change them;

They leave my mouth and fit into the cracks in his lips like Tetris blocks;

I love him all the same;