We are infinite— “and in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” In the back of the truck, the tunnel pulls away, one bright seam through the dark, like a spark in the gray. We are infinite, “we accept the love we think we deserve.” That’s the sentence, the ache, the line that undoes the curve. Dear friend, the letters land like weathered light, Charlie keeps a record of the hurt and the bright. Mixtapes hiss, a little smoke, a room holding its breath, Sam in the half-light, Patrick with the laugh that cuts the wreck. Not hidden—just holding the shape of the scene, All that is broken, all that is mean. There are moments that open like a door in the air, Then close like a thought you were almost aware of. I feel infinite—then I don’t. Then the heart says what the mouth won't. We are infinite— “and in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” In the back of the truck, the tunnel pulls away, one bright seam through the dark, like a spark in the gray. We are infinite, “we accept the love we think we deserve.” That’s the sentence, the ache, the line that undoes the curve. The past keeps its fingerprints on every small thing, But a song in the car can still make you sing. The tunnel of hands, a loud song on the drive, For one exact second, the terror goes near. Then gone—still, it leaves a light in the bone, A sign that you’re not as alone. If the old fear returns, let it come through the frame. I am here with the truth, and the bruise, and the same Open, unfinished, listening room— A life learning how to move through the gloom. We are infinite— “and in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” In the back of the truck, the tunnel pulls away, one bright seam through the dark, like a spark in the gray. We are infinite, “we accept the love we think we deserve.” That’s the sentence, the ache, the line that undoes the curve. I feel infinite. The tape runs out.
