we were girls together

I saw a daddy longlegs on the ceiling while I was showering and didn’t panic, even when it started slowly descending in my direction on an invisible silken thread. Instead I grabbed a backpack, coaxed it inside, and let it out. This is a sign that I’m in a good state of mind. What I’m feeling is the opposite of panic. The circumference of your eyeballs seems extravagant. They’re very large. You told me no one had ever said so, though they’ve complimented your eyelashes and mouth. I’m sure someone you’ve met has noticed the same thing. Maybe it coalesced into an unspoken thought and maybe it remained sub-perceptual. It’s odd how the texture of someone’s skin can create feelings in others without closeness, without touch. We absorb so much we can’t put into words. Can you be loved if you don’t feel loved? Is what I want simple or impossible? What makes someone act like that? I’ve let go all of my questions, which for so long seemed so important. The act of inquiring, the relentless…