Since I hugged you on that train platform in Illinois
I know that love can slow the passage of time
and that I need to hold you again

Since we listened to La Dispute and swayed lazy as ghosts at midnight
I feel connected to you in a way unparallelled before in life
and it hurts to be oceans away

Since we kissed under the Arch and fell heavily into bed that night
I am just a love-lorn cliché, composing poems in my head
and never writing them down for fear of embarrassment

Since we lay writhing on trembling beds, as people passed by the door
I am infatuated with you, and everything in your mind
and it scares me sometimes

Since we ran in open fields with dogs at our sides, laughing like children
I have had you in my own mind like bank vault doors, unmovable
and I don't see any reason to even try and move you

Since I left you at that Chicago departure lounge
I finally understand how dying feels
and how bitter my tears truly are

The bath water
is the colour of my eyes;
yet, I don't know
which is wetter.

Possibility A:
I still love you-
(Hip Hip Hooray!)
I pretend that I'm okay,
but I'm not the same soldier...
...now that I'm older.

It's all in vain,
turning on the porch light.
And it's only right,
that I dream that you would come home,
or change overnight.

Love overall
relates to a prescription thrill:
I want to feel good,
as long as it doesn't ****.

Under the tree,
doused in gasoline.
I would have burned for you
for however many rings.
For however many rings.

Possibility two:
I would have loved you,
the best that I could,
until my lungs would collapse.
And I would have pulled you
out of the car crash.

But I watched blood stain,
while trying to save you.
But it was washed by rain,
as you grew blue.
I didn't know what to do.

I waited for the ambulance,
the sirens blue and red.
Did they know that I loved you?
Did I know you were already dead?

Your breath still lingers,
swarming in the night air.
And I still feel your fingers-
God, it isn't fair.
God, it isn't fair.

And you would have loved me,
under falling tree branches.
And I would have kept you warm,
after avalanches.
After avalanches.

I would have kissed you,
as the snow crushed.
And I wouldn't have missed you,
if my hands rushed.
If my hands rushed.

Possibility last:
It's all in the past.

It's
all
in
the past.

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.