They said I should forget about you.
That I can't love what doesn't exist anymore.
But to me, you're still so real.
Every last memory is tangible,
tangled threads ensnaring my fingers,
I'm still reaching out for you.

We were young and in love,
what a sad cliche.
You were such a dreamer,
and opened my eyes to art and poetry and music.
I still love all those things,
but they remind me of you,
all so tangible, but intangible all the same.

They said I should forget about you.
That I cannot love what doesn't exist anymore.
But they're wrong.
You still exist
and I don't believe in love.
Not anymore, not with you
gone from this world.

I know everyone thinks
black is a sad color,
a depressing color.
Black is the absence of light,
and white is the blending of all colors.
But white always felt so hollow,
so sterile and cold.
Black has seemed to wrap its way
around me and embrace me,
while white has left me alone,
as if on a stage, spotlighted by
my own fear of stages.

I miss you.
Still.
I keep writing about
how I much miss you
But it doesn't make it better.
I'm still counting the days.
I miss the way your thumb
rubbed across the back of my hand.
I miss your eyes, the way they sparkled.
I miss the way you never yelled,
except that one time when
I stood on the edge of the world.
You promised me forever,
And I promised you always.
I miss your dumb jokes.
I miss your bad cooking,
The way you tried so hard to make cookies,
And apologized when you burnt them.
I miss you little mutters at night,
When you thought I was sleeping.
I miss you,
After all this time,
I will always miss you.

You know more about me
than any stranger should.
You know more about me
than any friend could.
It's not always easy
to post the things I write
Because they are more of myself,
that I don't like to share.
My poems are me and me alone.
I hope you like them,
but more, I hope you like me,
even if I'm a mess.

She cried and screamed at the edge of that cliff
until she tasted blood in her mouth
and her body collapsed
into the dirt, spent and shaking.
They led her away from the edge,
one officer looking down at the ravine,
her lover's crumpled, broken body
shattered at the base of the cliff.
Two days later, she followed him.