Our love was a fire on a cold day, much needed warmth I couldn't get enough of, leaving burns on my hands every time I got close

Our love was a thunderstorm after a drought, quenching thirsts I didn't know I had, pouring until water filled the only home I ever knew, stealing memories from from me like pickpockets on the subway

Our love was a hurricane, pulling trees from their roots, my mind blown away settling on clouds looking down at the mess below me, pretending the clouds could hold me forever.

Our love was my secret magical place, so beautiful I never wanted to leave, but hidden away in a wardrobe so small I needed to shrink myself down to fit through the door

I kept coming back to breathe in our love like smoke from the cigarettes of strangers

until one day the wardrobe disappeared, the winds slowed, the sky cleared, and I – I was handed a fire extinguisher and burn cream

I started to clean the mess we made, rebuilding my home and rediscovering pieces of myself that I forgot existed since they were too big to fit into our love

Our love was a book you closed before I could finish

I finally stopped rewriting our love in every notebook I could find

I stopped rewatching every scene of our love on an endless loop

I stopped looking for our love in every storm cloud

and the next time I returned to that empty room that once housed that small portal to our love, I found a door I never saw before

A door big enough for everything I have inside of me and now I'm thinking that maybe I never even needed to shrink

Published by

Nic Rasmussen

A Brooklyn-based poet who has a lot of feelings and writes about them quite often.

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