Sometimes, I revel in the burns on your skin that the pads of my fingertips have made.

Sometimes, my teeth leave crushed blood under the skin of your neck.

Sometimes, I pour myself into you through a flash of my iris.

Sometimes, quicksilver crashes through my nervous system at the sound of your voice.

Sometimes, I collapse as I come to the realization of the only thing I can ever truly be with you, temporary.

Though the V8+ posted our personal best time of the year today, we suffered a disappointing end to the season. The caliber at which the other crews performed was beyond what we had trained for. It was clear from the start that they had spent the winter lifting and erging with dedication, and that we were merely under the impression that we had accomplished something. Results aside, I’m approaching this summer with a new mindset. Rowing for Potomac Boat Club could be a turning point for me, where I find out what I’m really capable of. When considering my daily approach this summer, I’ll endeavor to accomplish only things that make me a better rower. Summer success could provide a window of opportunity to row somewhere more competitive, with like-minded individuals who won’t settle for less than achievement. For now, I’m setting my sights on six minutes.

I ventured, sought those

Iridescent flecks in your iris,

Those imperfect geometries

Of shattered longing

By the time I’d drawn them in my head,

Your distance had ravaged my memory

Language is the highest form of psychological devastation I have ever had the privilege to possess.

Why is it so hard to become a brain surgeon but so easy to buy a gun?