10.26.22
sometimes i catch myself teetering backwards on the stairs. not too much, not enough to fall, not enough to have that pit in my stomach or that cold hot cold feeling all over, but enough that the air starts to move slower around my body in that way it does right before. right before something. you know the feeling, i dont. thats okay though because you're feeling it now anyway. i feel my foot only halfway on the flat part of the stairs and i dont stop myself from falling backwards. maybe i hope you're there to catch me but i dont think so, thats too perfect, thats too romantic for me. i step halfway on the stairs and i hold that power in my hands to fall or push that momentum up a little more, bound up those painfully loud stairs like theyre nothing. i wish i could say i spend that half a second--hm no its gotta be less, it couldn't be half a second, probably not even a millesecond. dont pressure me into splitting hairs and times and dates and feelings, ive never been good with shit like that--thinking about you but i dont. i think about the marbling of the wood on those stairs and i think about my belt buckle sitting just between the 7th and 8th upright and i think about the way the plasterboard shit is tearing off the area right in front of me (you know the place, that part on the landing) i feel an inch of self control and you never enter my mind until the last creak is just the sound of rain in a distant memory