2nd
slug trails
it’s that kind of night where the moon hangs low in the sky and slug trails glisten on the pavement like garland sprinkled across the sidewalk. the path of least resistance shimmering in the moonlight. i stop to watch them if their leaf colored bodies catch my eye, as they move through the darkness; a slow motion display of elegance, leaving behind only mere traces of themselves which quickly fade with the rising sun. if only you were more like a slug, and your presence in my life was more like their trails. but it felt like i was born that night in your arms and never existed before you at all. for months you held me so close while we slept that in the mornings, the bed would be covered with sweat, our cheeks still touching, as if our sleeping bodies knew how short our time would be. sheets sealing in the mixture of your cold heart and mine, naive and warm. i still think of you sometimes, but the missing is different, it’s changed since my broken heart stumbled down your stairs, out your door and started picking up the shattered pieces i’d dropped along the way, retracing the many steps i’d taken across towns, state lines, street corners and subway cars. i’ve become much more like that slug nowadays, choosing my path a little more carefully, moving a little more slowly, and leaving a glistening trail behind me. reminders of how far i’ve come, how arduous the task of rebuilding has been, my slug trails, strings of tinsel twinkling beneath my feet, wink in the moonlight, patiently awaiting the sun’s return. as i glide along and peacefully slip into the darkness.
