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kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
this is not a poem. this is a reminder that things will get better. it might be ****** now, and it might stay that way for a while, but it won't be like this forever. please, do not give up. this will all be okay. you're so strong, and I'm so happy you're still here. I'm so proud of how far you've come. when you think nobody cares about you, think again. I care about each and every one of you. don't forget to smile, and try to spread a little joy to other people too. even if it's the slightest thing.
Strong  winds make rain dance on the roof.
High heels perform passionate flamencos.
The windows weep pear shaped tears.
Fog wraps the house in ***** rags.

You  died
1 year
12 months
365 days ago.

Your aunt said “he’s in a better place.”
What better place than here, with me?
Your uncle said “it was his time.”
I saw no expiration date.

I feel no anger, no denial and accept
that you are gone. The deep ache in me,
the painful rise and fall of memories
will never cease.

I hold your favorite shirt, fold it under my head.
It smells of you and sea and sand and sweat.
Across the front it reads:
“keep the daily bread, give me the wine and cheese!”

I hear you laugh and swallow tears.

— The End —