3 people in the world know of our secret, and i’m one of them. 3 gold beads beside a crystal—the Neptune of it all. in actuality, Neptune has 16 moons, but in our minds, we’re the only 3. somewhere in northern france, i was in a souvenir shop with 2 whose names rhymed in such a perfect way it seemed a poet dreamed them up and breathed life into them. we stood there and picked the milky blue for the dreary skies and the sea glass beads for when we haunted beaches at sunset; i wanted a sparkling summer but my tears matched the brittany sky. good things always come in 3’s: us. i wish we were 1 again. 3 gold beads; they pinch and pluck at my skin. the things i would do to be 3 again. we knew we were loving until leaving, and when leaving became too painful, i forgot how to love life to the fullest. i forgot how to live you and breathe in the air you displaced when you walked. breathe in the air that surrounds the empty space that should be us, now i wish time were truly a construct, and Neptune was just a city somewhere in northern france, but we’re just 3 moons orbiting, never touching home.
