from the corner of your mouth,

where did you even come from? you asked one day, in the middle of laughing at some joke we made the moment before. I was walking up the stairs and I had my phone in one hand, groceries in the other. you are always doing that; you will never wait for the right moment to say something because it is always the right moment to you… and for a moment I forgot who we were in this life and I looked at us: where did you come from? we grin like idiots in love because we are, and because neither of us have the real answers.

I want to tell you that I came from a million places, that I was looking for you in this vast universe, but somehow you found me. you say eight years in your memory and I only count seven, maybe because you count the time you were in love with me and I didn’t know. I remind you of when we were apart but you say, we were just finding our way back to each other. sometimes when you say those things I just stare at you, like I dreamed you up, and maybe that’s where you came from.

© Alexandra Jema