Like the dawn of a simple day was everything you’d ever put on your Christmas list. I’d still be sleeping when you’d leave for circus practice. Circus practice, where you’d walk the tightrope, twirl on trapeze bars, then come home and pull me into the front yard to teach me how to toss juggling balls into a still-blushing sky. When I think about why we broke up, why you flew all the way to Croatia to let go of the juggling balls I made you, I know it’s because I was a terrible juggler. I couldn’t figure out how to hold something and set it free at the same time. So I dropped the ball.
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