I took my time today.
I walked the way I used to walk with you,
not worrying about where the next step took me.
I missed two buses.
I got home half an hour late.
Or early.
It doesn’t matter anymore,
everything is relative.
Next week will be this week.
Yesterday is already tomorrow.
I’ve always heard that time is cruel;
too quick when you want it,
too slow when you don’t.
I’m not really sure what to think anymore,
because it’s been three months,
but I still think about you every day.

You are not the width of your hips
You are not the shade of your skin
You are not the fabrics in your closet
You are not the electronics that you own
You are not the papers in your wallet
You are not what you possess
You are not what you look like

You are the songs that you sing to in the shower
You are the shows that you stay up watching
You are the books that you read for hours
You are the poems and stories you make
You are the art you create, the strokes of your fingers
You are the subjects in school you enjoy learning
You are the dreams you have for tomorrow
You are the people you look up to
You are the friends you spend Friday nights with
You are the boys that you kiss
You are how you talk to your parents
You are what you love
**You are how you love

You are like a cigarette
I take you in to my lungs and hold you there
And even when you're gone I can still taste you on my lips.
You are like nicotine
Because I know that you are bad for me
But I'll keep going back for more
In the future you will make me sick to my stomach
They'll find me dead
They'll crack open my sternum and find the remnants of you still in my chest.
They'll see my empty lungs from where you've taken my breath away
But like a cigarette, for now, I'll keep smoking.

I don't have much to say these days,
but I think it's because I have too much
waiting to be said