Sunday, 5pm
when all the bad thoughts usually
start flooding in.
Instead I’m here, lying here
next to you. Skin touching.
Blue waves doing their crashing thing.

Your eyes fall shut in the sun,
and while you’re not looking,
I think, whatever happens
from here, whatever WhatsApp
graveyard you might end up in,
I have to remember this —

I have to keep my heart beating
thing in-check from racing
too far away from me.
The more of these moments I have,
the more of this I know:
We take chances. It hurts to try.
It hurts worse if we don’t.