You know, I almost called the other night.
Almost.
I’d like to think that
you would’ve almost picked up,
and I would’ve almost said something.
It’s a good thing I’ve almost lost your number;
I could get lonely someday
and forget that you almost wanted to stay.
I forget a lot nowadays.
I almost called the other night, you know.
But I’ve learned that “almost”
only counts in “I love you’s”
and “goodbye’s”.
Maybe I’ll almost sleep tonight.
It’s strange that I keep dreaming
about the night we walked around the city.
I always end up on the park bench
by your house,
waiting.
I’ve almost stopped wishing you’d show up.

I opened the blinds.
I took a deep breath.
I reminded myself that I exist.
I let you go.

It was a routine morning.

Here I am, looking up causes for headaches
at 1 am
when I know it will always come back to you.
My hands found the bottom of the ocean
as I cleaned old movie tickets out of my car today.
I can see your honesty from here.
It took my composure on its way out the door.
I’m not bitter anymore.
I’m just tired.
And I’m tired of being so tired.
I’m sorry you didn’t stay.
I’m sorry that I apologize
for all the times you didn’t.
I keep forgetting these things
are not one-sided,
and so,
I’m sorry I gave you everything
for nothing in return.
You tasted like love,
and I was parched.
Still am.

My love, if you die and I don't--,
let's not give grief an even greater field.
No expanse is greater than where we live.

Dust in the wheat, sand in the deserts,
time, wandering water, the vague wind
swept us like sailing seeds.
We might not have found one another in time.

This meadow where we find ourselves,
O little infinity! we give it back.
But Love, this love has not ended:

just as it never had a birth, it has
no death: it is like a long river,
only changing lands, and changing lips.

I said I’d never write about you again,
but I suppose I’m just as good at lying
as I am at leaving.
I’ve forgotten what your voice sounds like.
I always criticized you for not letting go,
as if the weights around my ankles
weren’t made of my faults
and everything I wish I could take back.
You told me today that
you’ve found love again.
I hope he finds flowers growing
from all the cracks I created
in your heart.
I hope he sees galaxies
in the darkened voids
I left behind your eyes.
I hope he understands
that you are full of splintered doors
on rusted hinges
that need to be loved and not repaired.
I hope he is nothing like me.
I’m sorry my words left scars.
I’m sorry my silence
reopened them constantly.
I’m sorry I was too busy
loving myself,
instead of loving you.

2:00 am
This is the sort of silence that makes a man insane.
2:01
I find myself writing once again, coping as I can.
A lovesick heart still writhing in the throes of loss
And spewing empty words, lacking any meaning.  
2:03
And I'm still unoriginal;
Never have I said a thing not said before.
2:10
And I wonder why it's taking me so long to get over you
And why your visage fills my vision every time I shut my weary eyes.
2:12
And I ought to take back every word I’ve said
Because I didn’t mean them, or at least I shouldn’t have.
2:25
I'm beginning to believe you'll never be the one for me.
2:26
And I realize you came to that conclusion long ago.
2:40
And I find it funny that somehow, even now
You keep me from my sleep and haunt my every dream.
2:45
I'm feeling rather sick
Of sitting on the sadder side of somberness.
2:58
It's nights like this that make me wonder if I'll ever be complete again.