we were as near to love as we were going to get, knowing nothing but
the freedom of a full tank of gas and nowhere to be
and bare feet running under a midnight sky so black that it seemed
made for sinners like us
and there was a certain safety that i’d never known before and may never know again
and i made you laugh and you made me forget how to breathe and there was nothing that
mattered so much as
the way our hands fit together, perfect as an answered prayer
you said, cross your heart
so i nailed my body to a bed and crucified myself for you
at 4am i cried into your hair and by 5, i was shutting your door behind me
i said, this is love
as i coughed out excuses that clung to my clothes
and settled there in the folds
i don’t think about you anymore, except most nights
and sometimes i imagine that the purple handprints on my legs
never faded
that you and i still share the same corrupted air
that i still belong to you
Gabrielle Marie is a first year engineering student at Vanderbilt University. She is a staff member of Persephone’s Daughters and hasn’t been published until now.