You're hearing, but that does not mean you are listening.
You're seeing, but that does not mean you are watching.
You're smiling, but that does not mean you are happy.
You're nodding, but that does not mean you are agreeing.
I hang on every word as it drips from the upturned corners of your dark pink lips. I drink them in as if they were a necessity to my existence. My eyes follow your every move in front of me, from the porcupine spikes on your freshly cut hair to the dress shoes you don't like to wear. I know the placement of every freckle on your arms because I've counted the abundance of constellations on your skin a thousand times with my boring brown eyes. The biggest grin comes across my face when I even think of you and the purest form of happiness shines off of my almost white teeth. Every corner, every crevice of my smile bubbles over with gratitude for somehow ending up living in the same world as you, getting to see you every day in my passions and in my mind, having the privilege to know you. I have held my own thoughts but changed their appearance in every way to get an ounce of approval, the slightest hint at a possibility that I might be doing something right while I stand in the chaotic storm that your life is sometimes. And you taught me about perspectives, we've spent weeks on the lesson, yet you still can't see that my everything reflects what's best for you. You still don't understand that I love you.
You're flirting, but that does not mean you love me, too.

You take
everything,
everything that was mine,
everything that you pretended was yours,
everything except responsibility for yourself.

I'm jealous of your pen.
Jealous of the way your hands will never caress my skin like you hold it.
Jealous of the way you won't ever twirl me on a wooden dance floor like you spin it.

I'm jealous of your tie.
Jealous of the way it wraps around your neck, a place my arms will never be.
Jealous of how nothing separates it from your skin except a shirt, but I have red tape cuffing my hands behind my back when I want nothing more than to let them roam beneath the collar of your blue-striped button down.

I'm jealous of your ears.
Jealous of the words they get to hear when mine aren't around to listen.
Jealous of the way they get to hear i love you spill over and over again from your pillowy lips, the same lips that form into a smirk after you tell a joke and make me feel like the most important person in the world.

I'm jealous of the way you make me feel.
Jealous, because, I'll never make you feel that way, too.

This morning,
I lost an earring.
Last year,
I lost you.

And you're not around now,
You won't see me graduate.
And you're not here,
So you wouldn't know how much I miss you.

And sometimes I wonder if it's better,
If those childhood stories about Heaven are true,
If you've gotten your memories back,
Your happiness back.

And I know that we had good times,
That plastic teacups were more important
Than plastic chairs bolted down
In uncomfortable hospital waiting rooms.

But maybe I'm being selfish,
Wanting you to be here with me.
Maybe I should be grateful that I even knew you,
That I had the honor to call you Pappy.

And I'll always miss your thick glasses.
And I'll always miss the way you sang just because you felt like singing.
And I'll always miss how you laughed.
And I'll always miss you.

And this morning,
I lost an earring.
But at least I can find it later,
Sitting on the bathroom sink.