I’ll never forget how you called me beautiful
when I climbed off the back of that quad covered in mud and took my helmet off
to reveal matted hair sticking to random places
on my head. When I woke up next to you
and had those crusty things in the corners of my eyes that partnered with
the gross smell of morning breath that you still kissed me when I had.
I’ll never forget how you called me beautiful
when I walked down the stairs into the living room and you saw me in that dress
you said you’d been imagining me in since you asked me to prom
more than a month ago. When I started to ramble on and on
about something I read or saw online that was completely irrelevant to anything that was said
all day.
I’ll never forget how you called me beautiful
like it was my name
every morning when you kissed me goodbye before leaving for work, every night when we were arguing
over what movie to watch and how many bags of popcorn to make, at random times
like during dinner at that little diner when I had just taken a big bite of pasta or when you surprised me at work
with my hair up and covered in three different kinds of fudge.
You called me beautiful every day until one day it turned into
darling, you’re beautiful, but…

Chocolate or vanilla?
It depends on if I’m drinking milk or if I’m eating
one of your mom’s double chocolate brownies fresh out of that oven where the paint
is starting to chip off the sides where the door hits the countertop where we eat dinner with your parents
every Saturday night.
Summer or winter?
It depends on if you called me beautiful in the past few days and if had a good workout that day so I actually believed you
or if I’m in the mood to be lazy and lay on your bed
and watch movies all day as we cuddled up with that fleece blanket
eating popcorn and mac & cheese until we were stuffed past our limit.
Dogs or cats?
It depends on if I feel like being jumped on by the dog that looks like the one you lost
but could never fill the emptiness that took over you that night or if I was feeling okay with
occasionally being scratched when the cat who’s as old as you saw a shadow and jumped off my lap.
Early or late?
It depends on if the clouds are low in the sky and covering that spot where we liked to go and say nothing at all
or if the stars are out and we can lay under them talking about the universe and how small
everything around us actually is.
Dark or light?
It depends on if you fell asleep holding me and I woke up the same way or if you went out
and came crawling into bed the next morning smelling like cigarettes and her cheap perfume you tried to mask
by spraying yourself down with the cologne I got you last month.
Past or future?
It depends on if we’re talking about the times we laid together and talked about that little house in the woods
we were going to have or the countless times I was left sitting by that pond trying to decide what I did
to make you change your mind this time.
Do I miss you?
It depends on if we’re talking about the you that moved your schedule around to come watch me dance
up on that stage for the last time
or the you that sent that text and left town too afraid you wouldn't end it in person if you saw the look in my eyes.
Have I moved on?
It depends on if you mean whether or not I stopped thinking about how you signed that birthday card
from the both of us or if I learned how to love myself again.
Will I ever just give you a straight answer?
It depends.

How did we get here
where vitamin water turned into ***** and the power of innocence changed to the courage of
alcohol. The boys no longer opening car doors and the girls trading in t-shirts for crop tops that show off
what they were or weren’t wearing.
Where sneaking a soda after dinner turned into hiding a flask at the family party where we used to play games
like hip-scotch and dodge ball instead of drinking hard whisky and Jack.
The promises made in the D.A.R.E. program about not doing drugs or drinking
were traded in for drunk driving and “just one hit.”
How did we get here
where grape juice turned into white wine and a nervous kiss under the bleachers
at the Friday football game moved to steaming up the windows in the back seat of that car
at the party on Saturday night.
The knocking on your neighbor’s door for them to come out and play moved to texting
in the driveway and hanging out means sitting on your phone
while sitting on the couch next to someone else.
How did we get here,
where root beer turned to Busch lite and being home before dark
switched to struggling to be home before the sun came up.
The parents not knowing their innocent children are making children and kids being too drunk to remember
they promised to go to Church on Sunday morning.
Where asking for forgiveness overpowered asking for permission and sorrys turned into whiskey shots
and make up ***.
How did we get here
with a drink in one hand and the other around my waist while you lean into me too drunk
to stand on your own.
This is the first time we’ve spoken since that day last June and I can’t help but notice why.
How did we get here
where the power of innocence changed to the courage from alcohol?

We’ve been here before: confusions high, tempers boiling, and the pressing question of whether or not we should be here.
I watch as your knuckles start to turn white as your grasp on the steering wheel gets tighter and tighter.
“I hate it. You gotta quit saying that” slips out of your mouth in a hushed tone.
I turn my body and look the other way trying to avoid your stare but still feeling every ounce of its
intensity on my back. Exhaling through my mouth
I gather the courage to face you again.
The sky’s just starting to turn dark and the only thing allowing me to see the complexity on your face
is that stupid street light we carved our initials into by the house three doors down.
The truth is that we’ve been here before and I know that you hate when I say
those stupid little thing that really have no relevance at all. Yet I continue
saying them trying to get a deeper thought from the person in front of me who’s turned into nothing more than a duplicate
of one of the moths swarming the now flickering light down the street.
The silence creeping over us is everything but quiet and I know

what’s coming. A techno melody began to play as we both let out a sigh.
It was 1 AM and we’re right back where we started.
“I hate it. We gotta quit doing this.” The telephone light from three doors down was still flickering
as our legs stayed wrapped up in one another.
We’ve been here before: unsaid thoughts, unanswered questions, uncontrolled confusion.
You always say we gotta quit doing this but night after night you lean in for another kiss.

How do I manage to lie awake
long after the sun disappears and the moon and stars light up the darkness surrounding me
just like you used to.
I'm not sure how after all this time
you haunt me more than just in my dream of happier times
like going on car rides for hours or walking aimlessly around your neighborhood
just for something to do.
Instead I have endless thoughts of what didn't happen:
the zoo date that never surfaced,
the cute little surprises you always told me not to tempt you with,
the picking me up at my front door before a big night you promised I would never forget.
I guess you were right about that part; I never did

forget. And as I lie here hopelessly in love with the ideas I still have of what we will be, are, or more like used to be,
I'm haunted more by what wasn't said than what was. Secrets don't make friends
which explains why we turned into enemies.
Or more like frenemies;
not friends and not enemies,
just strangers with a lifetime of memories.

It’s 9 AM and I’ve been drinking
since before the sun came up.
The sound of the rain outside hitting that patched up window is nothing but an echo
of the liquor splashing its liquid into a never ending glass
until yet another empty bottle clicks and clanks in the trash.
It’s 12 PM and I’ve been drinking
since before the rain stopped.
The light from the warm sun peaks through the cracks in that window that broke
the last time I drank and reminds me of the day
leading up to that big fight when everything changed.
It’s 3 PM and I’ve been drinking
since that night two weeks ago when you screamed about me buying that new sofa
and walked out on the only thing that was keeping me
happy, alive, and sane.
It’s 6 PM and I’ve been drinking
since after the door slammed and you walked out
on me, on the little country house in the woods, and the little family we’d been
planning late at night after the sun set over the tree tops.
It’s 9 PM and I’ve been drinking
since before the sun traded places with the moon and illuminated the outline of the scar
on my left arm from the night we drank too much and drove too fast
on those road we didn’t know were dead ends.
It’s midnight and I’ve been drinking
since I knew where those roads took us.
All the twist and turns I thought were just part of the fun
ended up destroying us like they did that car when we hit the tree because we didn’t see the ice
below the new blanket of snow that was only interrupted
by the wavy tire tracks from what we thought was just innocent fun.
It’s 3 AM and I’ve been drinking
since I learned that being innocent and having that kind of fun is nothing more than a joke.
It’s 4 AM and I’ve been drinking
since I realized that the rain leaking in through that smashed window won’t ever wash away the things that we’ve done
or the regrets I can never take back.
It’s 5 o’clock somewhere and I’ve been drinking
but I’ve never felt more sober.

I rode the merry-go round,
I've been through the revolving door,
but I always seem to go back
to where I was before.
Times of endless word rhymes
still echo in my head
as I cry into one of the handfuls of teddy bear toys
you've given me.
Then I realize
they're just like me,
        taking                up              space,
not really having any meaning;

sort of like that retro painting in my room we hung up to try and hide
the hole I punched in the wall in the life we painted together.
I forced my knuckles through the plaster until I knew
the blood stains in the white carpet would never come out.
We've rode the merry-go round,
we've spent time in the revolving door,
but I don't think my heart can take
going back to where we were before.