there’s a weight in my stomach i can’t seem to get rid of tonight; my therapist cancelled our session because she was sick and that’s not the problem, it was my simple slip up of not checking any messages. she texted, apologized twice and that was sweet but i still almost cried. it’s just hard getting there. the woman passing as i left the wall i had been leaning against looked vaguely concerned. if anything, at least i took a good photo and a walk today.
and i don’t know if i should call you, or how–you caught me off guard two weeks ago when you said “i’m definitely thinking of you” in a voicemail; i think about the smell of you i miss i can’t place anymore, and also the time when i met you for the day, you told me the night before it was with another woman. you told me the story. about how i am uncertain of the space around me, but certain i feel this pull to the way you were gentle.
i want talking to you, being with you to mean i do not have to be small. i am tired of staying internal and making the heart curl up. i want to put it outside in the rain and mud.