Bloom

 That's the thing. It's the thing I wanted. That feeling. The one where you aren't sure of until it's there. I feel you and you feel me and it bounces back. I can't tell what it means. I keep associating it with bad people. Ones who come along just to touch and moan and move on. People who just want what they want. They don't think about what lingers. About what it will do to me. I blossom and grow, then the petals fall away. Plucked on purpose, sometimes. I try to save myself. Preserve what it was I felt. But, in the end, it dies off. It fails to bloom for long periods of time. I was so used to it coming and going so quickly for a long time... It was painful to die off and then have those feelings linger. Waiting. Now, I wait longer and longer, sometimes. The unknown makes me anxious.

I dream about you. About him. About others. A golden retriever who lost his human. A neighbor. He is on the steps, his golden hair shiny and too long. He hasn't been groomed in awhile, because she was sick. He circles on the stairs a few times. Unsure what to do with himself. He loved her too much. She's gone and he knows it, but also he doesn't know what to do with it. What a good boi, I think. I burst into tears as I see him approaching a stone fence near my mailbox. He rushes over and climbs, then jumps. His joints are old and he is in pain. He yelps when his feet impact the ground. The pain searing through his joints. I cry hysterically, wondering how and why. He had so much love for her, and now she is gone. The pain is going to linger. He tried to end it and he's just a dog. He doesn't know how. He just feels the pain in a different spot for now. What a good boi.

I see you next to her all the time. His big eyes look into mine and I blink. Waiting. She is close to me. I am not close with her. I blink and look away. I know what he means. Things have moved around and I am not sure what anything means anymore. Where did all this space come from. Now, I am close to you. Are you close to me? I don't look at him. I can tell already. I feel it. He agrees. I feel his energy flowing through his body. Hot and wild. I am close to you. I grab his hand and we go to the market. We weave in between people. 

Masks are weird. Now that they are up. It's been a year since I've regularly seen strangers without them. When I see some people at work without their masks, I think they are not how I remember them being. They are different. They have a strange face. I know it is them. But, they don't look like how I remember. They have changed. Gotten older, grown. Their pictures look different, too. Because people usually do look different in real life. But, now there's always a mask. I like my mask. I like to hide. I feel more confident. I feel like without a mask, I might feel exposed. I don't think I'm ready for it. I want to live behind a mask for a little longer. It has become something swift and easy to do. Just hide for awhile. Behind a slip. I don't think I recognize anyone anymore. Not even my own face, sometimes.