We like to think about if we can find people who feel this way. 

Has anyone ever? Has anyone ever loved like this?

This meat and bones and softness wrapped together under blankets and more pillows than can fit on a bed.

We are cataclysmic. Holy and moving across lifetimes and state lines sometimes I don’t even know if this is something universally bound or otherworldly. 

Unseen. 

Too delightful.

“Holy f,” we say, astonished at how the world folds in on itself and all that is left is us

and pillows

and want.