IMAGINARY HEART.
Never learn to hold someone you can’t have. Never imagine hugging them after a long day at work. Never imagine your toes tucked underneath their thighs as the two of you share a couch on a cold late January afternoon. Never day dream about their lips brushing against the back of your neck as you wash the dishes. Never hold a pillow to your chest and pretend it is their body pressed into yours. Never wonder how their hand might feel in yours; how their hips might feel against yours; how their tongue might feel against the curve of your neck. Never try to hold a heart whose weight you can never really know. They seem so light at first, but eventually things you love, but cannot ever have, become the kind of weight that will eventually drown you.
I try not to do this anymore. And mostly succeed. But every now and then I have a memory, that incites a hope that demands attention. So I hold it in my hand, roll it around, get lost in enjoying it until it becomes to hard to look at any more and put it back in my pocket. And then get on with my day.