When we were young and catching
frogs. I caught one and placed it in
your open hands. Just so.
I remember the dirt, and the wrinkles
of your palms. Your squeals.
In high-school it was the world’s best kept secret we were
fucking. When we weren’t.
Even after, when we were,
often I would pinch myself when you were sleeping.
Just to be sure.
Love is a string of fragile moments
when two people fall together.
Looking back now I see our moments
in reverse, and watch
two people slowly diverge,
and fall apart.
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