this morning, i woke up thinking about your neck. i thought about how it’s shaped, it’s divots and length and the color of your skin. i’d like to burrow into that neck, i know you’d chuckle.

this morning, i woke up thinking about our night together. i thought about scenery flying by in the dark, our arms out car windows at dusk, supplies kept in the rear door to remind us how things would end.

this morning, i woke up thinking about the three of you again and my chest warmed again.

this morning, i woke up thinking about you and i last night, embraced, rocking, tears falling all over the Providence skyline. my being melts with gratitude for you.

this morning, i woke up thinking about matilda the musical, how they sing about growing up and dream in ways that the rest of us have forgotten to.

this morning, i woke up as a writer and rushed to my laptop to throw words on pages quickly.

this morning, i woke up thinking about the mistakes you made and the love you never provided. i remembered the knife dragged deeply against her skin, the school photos shattered on the living room floor, and the sound of your rage.

this morning, i woke up on a couch and this, well. this is what happened next, i suppose.