she's the one (two)

i begin the descent, language carries me on.

the door whispers.

i pack the last of my belongings, all the time wandering if i am dressed appropiately, or if i should've layered up more, san francisco style.

the ground shivers, roots begin to sprout from deep within the cracks.

i feel blessed.

and decide to not look back, despite this overwhelming urge
to smell her hair again.

even if just for a couple of seconds
even if she doesn't stop me before i leave the country.