You asked if I was going to stay, I nodded,
but I'm just waiting here until your coffee cools,
until your feet go numb from sitting on them
so you have to switch positions, until the letters
magnetized to your fridge stop twisting themselves
into "sorry." Until I feel better about not calling you later.

Last night you asked if I liked Bon Iver,
I nodded, but I only did that in hopes that I could see
what the rest of your bra looked like, because
the strap was barely falling off your shoulder,
and I know you tried to tuck it neatly
under the straps of your dress, but darling,
I want to love you like a disaster. I want to tear
into your skin like your bones are a present,
it's Christmas morning, and I'm that little kid
sitting on the stairs, peaking. I want to line up
my heart with yours like they are those fridge magnets
with the thinest of barriers between them, your chest
a tiny cage that I have the key to, hidden
underneath my tongue. I want to rock you to that song
your telling me is your favorite that I promise
I'm not going to remember the name of. I want your sheets
curled between your toes as you breathe into my neck,
into my mouth, into my brain. I want to use your ribs
like a guitar, stroke them in a rhythm only I know,
only the two of us can hear the sound.
I want to come this close to falling
for you before I have to break free.

You asked if I really had to go, I nodded,
but in my mind I'm leaving you clues:
footprints on your carpet, my belt on the dresser,
my smile as I watched you through
the crack of light between the bathroom door
try to put your hair up ten different times
before you came to bed, just so you can find
my heart between the pillow cases
as I pull my car out of the driveway.

I loved you. Deeply, whole-heartedly, sickeningly, with every ounce of my being, with every breath I had, I loved you. I used to say that I was "in love with you". But I've come to realize that there's a difference between being in love, and loving someone with all that you have. To be in love suggests that someone is also in love with you. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't the case. I don't know what you honestly felt for me, if you felt anything. But I know what I felt. I felt alive when you looked at me. I felt a rush every time you embraced me. Whenever you would flash me your smile, I felt content. Your stare filled me with peace. When your eyes met mine, I felt secure. I just wanted to know what was going through your mind. What were your dreams, fears, dislikes? What did you love? I wanted so badly to be your backbone. With all I had, I wanted to be the one you relied on. I wanted to be the one you longed to see at the end of a rough day. Most of all, I wanted you to know how much you meant to me. I loved you, with everything I had. I loved you, with every second I breathed. I wanted to be a better person, for you. I wanted to be honest, kind, loving, gentle, respectful, respectable. I wanted to be the kind of women you could love. So maybe I wasn't "in love" with you, but I know that there isn't a single thing that I have - past or present - that I wouldn't have given up for you.

She told me, “Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel is the stars above you on your darkest nights. They remind you that you are so minuscule and the battle you’re fighting is just a grain of sand in this universe. Sometimes, the light is within you. It’s in the way that you decide to dust yourself off and pick yourself back up again after falling and being kicked. It’s in the way you decide to rise about your circumstances. Sometimes, the light at the end of the tunnel is all in the mindset. Love, please, do yourself a favor. And count your stars. Not your scars.”

It takes a thinking mind
And a willing heart,
To write it.