There comes a point in everyone's life
When their body is heavy, weighed down from love
They have just discovered what it is like to sleep alone again
And how it is one of the hardest things to remember how to do
At this time people say, "Get back out there and you will find someone to make you forget all about them," or
"There are plenty fish in the sea, so cast out your line."
These words are very encouraging but they are not what I want to hear
I do not want to throw myself at people and try to convince them I am good enough for them to love
I am staying patient in this purgatory, I am enduring lack of oxygen
Learning to breath underwater, learning new things
I am doing things now I would never have done without the heartache
When I say I am waiting for love, I mean I am waiting for myself to stop wanting it
I think it is beautiful, something we live to discover
But I have been spending too much time looking for it
I want a love more than clandestine love letter and sharing umbrellas in the rain
A love not just made up of syllables or words that sound nice
I want someone who I can talk with about the shade of a cloud or how I feel when I step in freshly cut grass or how when I got home I looked down at my hands and saw theirs
Our kisses would be impossible slow
So to my future lover
I am waiting to write you down in cursive ink
I am waiting for you to hand me the pen

Peel of your skin
Open up your muscles
Crack open your bones to take a look inside
See the generations crawl backwards
Through the same mess
Abuse, dominance, fear
There are no new sorrows running in your veins
Your mother has felt it and so has your father
Stories and scrapbooks, old record players and blankets
They are passed down from parent to children
Tradition holds caskets full of antiques and poems for her children's children to read
To write them as well
In different bodies, new homes with younger skin patiently waiting to reveal their own lives
To their children

Finding peace is like finding a lost chapter in the bible, it was there, waiting to be discovered, aching to be held, to be felt
Peace feels a lot like a blanket of sunsets was stitched together and laid over your heavy body, it makes you feel weightless
Peace is wonderful, so grab hold of it

And I bet she doesn't write poetry
I bet her mind is shallow, floating above water in places where I am drowning
She does not trace homes in your chest
She does not wait for it to be perfect
She does not wait for it to be love
Our eyes spoke more than our mouths ever did and I figured that was okay
We were butterflies in tummies and fluttering heartstrings of laughter that lasted a little too long
I am now spending my time trying to figure out if I have gotten stronger or weaker and which of those is worse
Even fragile hearts are strong enough to hold on to something as big as love
No matter these callused palms that you may find no reassurance in, your act of running away does not mean I won't stop reaching out
I know that I have gotten better
But I will forever be tempted to drive by your house just to remember what it looked like and I am never sure if I want you to be outside to see me or completely oblivious to the fact that I still love you
I do not want to seem weak, and I know that I am a new person because of you
I just wish you could meet her
She still writes poetry
She always will

He sits in the driver's seat, hands tearing apart his steering wheel cover at a red light near her house. He is on the way to meet with a friend who swears he can help get his mind off of her. He arrives at an old dock where they used to go fishing every Saturday morning. It was bliss and peaceful, it was so much easier. They stopped when he fell in love, he was so enveloped in her presence and everything that she was. He couldn’t stay away. He puts his truck in park and takes a deep breath.
"Hey buddy, long time -- no see, huh?"
"I know, I know," he says forcing a smile.
"Come on in, it's cold out."
The two go inside, drink a few beers and talk about old times. It was assumed that this was all it would be and it was all it needed to be. It was brothers by bond, friends who were there for each other, they taught them how to forget for a while, for the most part.
"How have you been holding up? I hate to ask but man, you've been gone. You're not yourself."
He sits looking down and after it all he knows there is no use in lying.
"There is one voice that keeps echoing in my ears ... there is one face that keeps coming in front of me every time ... she was the peace in my heart, she was the joy, the laughter, she was everything."
He smiles as he is reminded of her dancing in the kitchen. His fist tightens at the thought of her hands running up and down his back.
"I really loved her man. I loved her more than anything."
A rock sits in his throat and he is choking back tears he swore he would never let loose. He swore he was stronger than that, but love, it does things to you. It makes you do things you swore you would never do.

He looks up and his friend of years is waving his hand in front of his face.
"Hello," he laughs, " I asked how have you been holding up."
"Oh," he clears his throat, "I'm doing fine, I bounced back pretty quickly. I hardly think if it anymore. The past is the past right, cheers to us man. I got everything I need without her."
They clank beers and he swallows back every truth he was too afraid to say. Sometimes weakness is hiding. Sometimes strength is admitting you've hit your knees.

This is getting old
Loving you past your act of moving forward
It is like each step you take is one I tread backwards
I wish it was easier now that I know you don't want this
Now that I know you have found something better
But for some reason it feels nothing less like my collarbones cracking in mimicking the chandeliers falling to the ground of an abandoned palace that used to be so beautiful but now left with an unlocked door and someone who has the keys but doesn't even know it
I swear it's your voice I hear and your fingers I feel tracing the rise and fall of my ribs in the early hours of the morning
When no is awake, I always am and I wonder if you are too
Part of me still remembers how you made me smile, how despite the circumstance you would aways trigger something in me, flipping a light switch, I swear I could see things clearer when I was with you
Part of me still questions the possibility of seeing you again
Maybe just once, a coffee for old time's sake
But you wouldn't for the fear she would get angry because it lasted more than 20 minutes
For fear it would actually have meant something
And after a while I get tired of thinking of you every time another boy smiles at me
It is a never-ending cycle of you running in my veins
I am afraid to give blood because I know they will find traces of your laughter, they might call this a disease
I have tried to love other people but they don't deserve half of me
I have ripped all the synonyms out of the thesaurus for lonely
And still there will never be anything to describe this feeling because humans have not yet crafted a word for it
I don’t think they ever could
You are a bittersweet memory at best
And I am going to move forward
Because I've learned that there is no use in holding onto something that just isn't holding you back