You're a one night stand
But we spent too many nights
I lost count of it.

You're that unexpected kiss
On a drunken wasted night
Of vomits and *****.

You're that awkward hi
Exchanged by strangers who
Thought they both knew each other
But were clearly mistaken for another.

You're the bruise that turns blue
When I accidentally bump my leg
On the corner of the bed.

You're the scar that I never
Knew I had.

You're the bittersweet taste in
My mouth every morning.

You're the last thought lingering
In my head before slumber takes me
And you're the vagueness that
Haunts me in my dreams.

You're the scalding hot shower
In a cold freezing morning.

You're the boiling tea that numbs
My tongue for the rest of the day.

You're the obsession
I will never learn to let go of.

You're that person I will
Never get to call mine.

You're the one that got away.

You constantly make it impossible for us to talk.
I want to wind myself around your body.
Feeling your soft skin placed ever so delicately against mine.

I want to constantly hold your hand.
Entwining our fingers ever so vividly.
Holding your hand tightly so you don't blow away into the sky.

I want to write your name across the sky with clouds.
Because for now, for recently,
you are all the clouds in my sky.

It is not the mere thought of you that entrances me.
It is the way you smile at the simplest things.
It's the way you entangle our bodies from behind.
It's the way I feel your hot breath sharp against the back of my neck when I'm tangled in your arms like the numb, depressed human being that I am.
To put it simply, it's the way you exist.

You are ever so endearing to me, and I will constantly tell you.
No matter how often you constantly tell me to leave.

I colored you into an image so bright that I could see you even with eyes closed. I painted you loud enough for the noise to keep me up at night. I made you into something you were not; a masterpiece.

"do i ever even cross your mind?"

"you've never left."

He told me
That I'm not over you

He can tell
By how everything I write
Has traces of you in it

I tell him
This is not true
That I do not directly
Write about anyone
Anymore

But see,
The spaces between words
That's where you fit in
I don't even need your name
For you to be mentioned
Just a hint of your memory
Or the way I describe
A body that is no longer next to mine
Provides enough insight
For anyone to guess
That you are still very much
On my mind

You are in every sentence
Every stanza
Every syllable
Every breath

But he is wrong
To say
I am not over
When I have already passed the finish line

Yes I still write you
Everywhere
But only because
I have nowhere else to stick you
And I like the idea
Of rewriting a story
In order to remember what you want to

You sound much better in poetry
Than you do in real life
And your description tastes much better
When it is drenched in metaphor

I like to make you
Sound pretty
Even if we ended
In so much ugly

He told me
That I'm not over you

He can tell
By how everything I write
Has traces of you in it

But I am over you
I have been
For quite a while

My heart
On the other hand
Is still learning
To let go.