and then one day after being fucked up for months i realized something. i didn’t know her. she didn’t know me. just because i tasted her cum and spit or could tell you her middle name or knew a record she liked, that doesn’t mean anything. that’s not a connection. anyone can have that. really knowing someone is something else. it’s a completely different thing and when it happens you won’t be able to miss it. you will be aware. and you won’t hurt or be afraid.
adam, girls

you who never arrived

you who never arrived
in my arms, beloved, who were lost
from the start,
i don’t even know what songs
would please you. i have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. all the immense
images in me — the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods—
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

you, beloved, who are all
the gardens i have ever gazed at,
longing. an open window
in a country house— , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. streets that i chanced
you had just walked down them and vanished.
and sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. who knows? perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…

rainer maria rilke