Photograph by Georgia Crum

raw journal

Julia Lindemann

i knew i did not stand a chance (from
the very moment i met you)
you caught me at a point in my life where
my shadow was complaining about never
following joy (my most exuberant of emotions
were shoved away in the dustiest corners
of my mind), and i spent my time trying to
convince her that i was someone worth trailing
you came along, gently whispering words
tasting of sunshine and cinnamon and
commending the parts of me no one else
seemed to cheer for
falling (i’ve always been afraid of heights)
was learning to love in a language i didn’t
quite understand, in unspoken words i didn’t
have the courage to hoist out of my chest
if anyone were to undress the layers
of shy clothing my heart, they’d find
your fingerprints
sometimes it feels as if when you grab
my hand (jokingly, you don’t feel the
way i do) it’s like i’m holding on to
the next seventy years of my life, and
when your eyes meet mine i’m staring at
my future in a one-to-one meeting, trying
to determine what kind of story this will
turn out to be
my mama has always said that i was born
a galaxy with star-kissed skin, and i can’t
help but hope that you’re the one with
telescope eyes praying to make sense
of the constellations between us