non-believer in a state of grace

We were nothing.

A proud toss of the head, a cocked eyebrow, a broom closet.

A kiss, a breath, a moment suspended between dust and the string tying together two pairs of eyes.

We were heat and sound and we were there for seconds, an entity half formed of smoke and moans.

We were arrogance, and fragility, and lies, and trembling fingers.

We were things that had never really lived and things that were never really born.

(And, what we were, whatever we were, we were beautiful)

I can't keep loving you.

The truth was, we never even learned how.