"Gender expansive."

Their voice sparkled sunrise. The recording went on, but I could only hear murmuring brooks and wet soil.

They were deep-sea thermal vent archaea to my beach sun air. I could tell how much they struggled, but they knew life deeply. Warm ebb pulled me in.

I knew right away that I wasn't their person. Hesitant exchange of glances, polite conversation at the abolitionist bloc party. Even when something drew them back a year later, it felt doomed.

They weren't around. I grew used to the long haunted hallway between us. Tried my best to appreciate the space and freedom, my healing codependent younger self. Managed to like it most days.

But then the wave hit. The semester started. They were overworking themselves at the pantry. "I already suffer enough from the unhealed queers around me who aren't doing their work." You were loyal to them anyway. I loved you for that, some days.

They asked for indefinite space.

Three weeks before breaking up with me, I tuned into their aura because I missed them. They stared back and waved. I blushed and retreated back from the ocean.

Always spellbound by their Atlantic's beyond.

image description: close-up - cerulean churning waves and frothy white sea foam

Photo by Das Sasha on Unsplash