One day we’re gonna drive and drive until we reach some wherever place, and we’re going to be so damn good and free and we’re going to call each other different names like maybe I’ll be Remy and you’ll be Portia and we’ll have these real names we’re hiding beneath our real skin, the real ugly beautiful skin we only show each other, and we’ll sleep behind what’s left of some abandoned building but we’ll be in some wherever warm place so there will be hot pavement against our backs while we’re staring up at the night sky, our bodies always touching, always, and sometimes I’ll say what do you want to do and you’ll say whatever as long as it’s with you and you’ll say when do you want to leave and I’ll say whenever as long as it’s with you and we’ll talk until our lips chap and our throats dry and even that won’t matter because there’s still more to say and when there’s nothing left to say I’ll bleed for you and you’ll breathe for me and that’s all we’ll need wherever we are.
Remember that place I have for you? Where we stole so much, yet not enough? (Never enough.) The place where we swallowed the things that scared us? The place where I took your rib and you took mine?
I think of that place. Often.
The stitches you made in my heart with your hair are still tight, but ever loosening. They will need mending soon. Your rib is safe inside me. When I am missing you in that way that aches I slip my hand inside my skin to touch it. It beats warm.
That place, is this wherever place, is a place I continue to want to be.
Roxane Gay lives and writes in the Midwest. xTx lives and writes near an ocean. They are best friends who met through writing and then met in real life. Sometimes, there is drunk texting.