what is love?

Our backs rest quietly on the grass as we stare into the ceiling of stars spread across the universe. My fingertips are damp from the mildew covering the green straws of grass as I gently run my hands across the ground, and I can feel the cool against the back of my shirt meeting the warmth of my skin, balancing out perfectly. Like so many things in this world.

I let out a long sigh and turn my head to face you. There are tiny drops sticking to your hair, and you’re like a frozen piece of art as you stay perfectly still like a statue. Did time actually stop this time? But then your eyes close for a second and maybe the small drops in your hair are fallen tears, I see another one forming in the corner of your eye and slowly making its way down your chin. My hand automatically moves to stop it in its path, but I pause midair to observe the strangeness of gravity. I can’t stop them even if I try.

We’re stuck here together, such a fleeting constant. We come to this secret hideout every night to watch the magic of objects far out of reach, to feel together as we remain alone underneath the weight of the world. We reach down into our pockets to pull our feelings, thoughts and dreams out and pick them apart as if they were clockwork, intricate pieces that work together to tell time at our whim, a constructed concept that we all rely on for all our predictions. Then we piece them back together, so we can still be predictable and relied on once we return back home.

We bring new words and old words with us here, so we can belong and so we can distance ourselves just enough. Just like clockwork, we are forming circles. We’re a mathematical formula, fibonacci in nature, infinitely repeated when magnified.