i wrote a book years ago and you weren’t in it

in september, when you meet her

it is not the proximity of your bodies that will determine your closeness

it is how much of yourself you are willing

to light on fire.

when she rests the soft animal of her lips against the nape of your neck

say that you are ready for arson.

when she says the unprecedented word ‘love’,

it will be an army of skeletons and teeth snapping to the floor

it will reverberate the windows on their frames

it will be the rusted ember of your heartbreak ending,

she will know that you have changed chapters in the story for her

you, with all of the minute details, and the obsessive calculating-

knock it off

learn to not to plan anything,

fall in love with her more every goddamn day

don’t be surprised that it is possible to do so

and if she asks,

light the whole fucking book on fire.