can you please explain to me,
how you are always the best you that you can be,
but almost effortlessly

i’m wrapped up in your sheets,
i’m wrapped up in your mind.

you’re strangling me,
but your hands feel so gentle in doing so.

i’m wrapped up in what i wish we were,
& unaware of what actually exists.

i feel you when you’re gone,
but i wonder, am i only just feeling my idea of you?

do i know you, and are there things you wish to tell me that your mind won’t let you speak of?

do you know me,
have i let you see me,
or just what i believe to be?

is this love,
or are we looking through misproportioned emotions formed by our individual needs to be important to another?

baby,
i know you want to know me,
but you will lose your mind
trying to understand mine

i miss you.
i miss your house.
i miss you brother & your sister.
i miss your parents.
i miss our laughs which intertwined so perfect.
i miss your bedroom floor.
i miss your backyard.
i miss our memories.
attempting to make chicken,
attempting to make it through the night.
i miss the way you made me smile.
& most of all,
i miss how happy you made me,
how happy i made you.
i wish, just once,
that i could be back on your floor,
where we could understand each other.
where we could pour our hearts out,
and we would cry & laugh & know that we were forever.
but now,
i feel like i’m falling & the carpet on your bedroom floor isn’t there to catch me.
i miss you.

The poetry isn’t in all these words —
It’s in knowing I survived them.