the opposite of lost

he won't say it,
but I know he wants to.

you can see it when we're kissing.
or breathing.

making the kind of eye contact
only people who know each other from one ocean to the next
can make.

making the kind of eye contact
that only people jumping off park benches
and running through parking lots at midnight can understand.

it's simple,

we're simple.


he's trying to save my life in a movie theater.
I'm trying to save his life in the backseat.
but we make time for each other at 2am on the weekends,
over katniss and peeta,
when I'm shaking and he's making promises,
and telling me his plans
for how to keep me alive.

we could've fallen asleep there,
on the floor of the parking garage.

and I want to keep him until the morning,
but thank goodness he's too reasonable to even last the hour.

thank goodness he's too reasonable
to let me fly away.

everyone told me he wouldn't figure it out,
but I'm figuring out
how to make him figure it out.

so we're just two people coming up with solutions.

solutions for how to fix the gingerbread cake
and how to make friday night work.

solutions for people who keep calling,
when he's already tuned them out.

solutions for the doctor visits
and 2AM tests,
and ways to make the walk between our bedrooms
a little shorter.

and the days longer.

and our time longer.



it's simple.

we're simple.


and anything but lost.