I Wish I Could Go Back to the Two Times I Loved You

Sitting at the two ends of your couch, we were guessing the colors of our eyes. What a dangerous game. As we moved closer and closer, the bourbon you poured got the best of us. I didn’t know chaos could be so quiet.

And once, you came back from your trip, and showed up at my apartment unannounced. You showed me the black and white films you developed. I had never understood their aesthetics, until a photograph of me came up - a Saturday morning at yours, still in my pajamas holding the cup of coffee you brewed me. I never saw colors the same way again.