and Inhale

The temperatures soar. For a brief moment, the city explodes in incredulous delirium. No one can believe their luck. Outdoor cafes burst forth like mushrooms after a rain storm, pale skin peeled from underneath confused outerwear. I spend my days navigating streets based on where the sunlight will hit, how I can walk staring straight into it. The path along the river is overrun by throngs of fair-weather friends, but how can you be mad? He speaks of the body and it reminds you of yours: a warm blood begins to course within it, a hunger reminds itself. He says if I would have chased you, you would have run away and it's been too many years for the truth to matter even when the answer sits like a quiet peace in your rib cage. There's a truth at the base of your spine that refuses to be moved, and you have stopped trying. The blood paces in, and out, at will, pinking your cheeks and continuing on its way. Just because it makes sense doesn't mean you should do it.

Just because you know better doesn't mean you're not right to try.