catch

there are some things i long for so desperately i can’t bear the thought of missing them.

when their names circle through the recesses of my mind, a drought forms in my chest, a tiny pinprick in the fabric that holds my heart in place. quickly, under the deluge of memory and lost love, the dunes encase my soul, and the beats drop out of my chest to a bloody pulp on the floor. a scream catches in my throat, and my head drops instinctively to my chest, elbows touching ears, a protection from the emotional onslaught.

the price of scaling a wall into a secret garden, an oasis of friendship and falling in love, exotic smells and tastes and Bengal tigers, serenity and peace, is watching the bricks shrink in the rearview mirror.

the price of wanderlust is love.