to live without art is to live without breath.
i was going through boxes of books and old clothes when i found the scarf you lent me.
we were going to the football and it was cold and i didn’t bring a jacket, so you lent me your scarf- your favourite team scarf.
how is it possible for a scarf to claw its way into my chest and stop my heart from beating? it’s not? well, it’s happening. it’s possible.
i almost forgot what it was like to be 16, and to love my best friend with my whole heart- my best friend who secretly loved me a little too much;
i almost forgot what it was like at 18 to kiss you in the dead of night and dismiss you in the morning;
i almost forgot how entwined we once were, how many libraries i could fill with every story and aching that passed between us.
staring at your scarf, now dusted by 10 years, i can’t think of anything else.