sometimes it hits me really hard,
like in an instant, my world is backwards
and my heart is being squeezed too tightly-
just enough to hurt like hell.

i'm suddenly drowning in blankets
that smell like us
and pillows that have
blood stains on them,
my eyeliner is smeared and
my hair is a mess.
i'm back in your basement,
and i don't know how to leave.

we're eating dinner while watching
fringe, supernatural, chuck,
and your dad made me my own pasta
(i love that man to an indescribable extent).
i look over at you and suddenly something changes.

your eyes have gotten darker,
your hair is knotted and your face older,
your laugh has faded away.
you went and grew up without me.
you make me nervous, sweets,
and i know i've already lost you.
you scare me, kid.

i'm trying to leave,
trying to hurry past the quilt on your wall
and the screaming cat on the stairs.
i'm attempting to escape the fear
that you've instilled in me.

but i realize that the thing i fear
is a whole different person
than the one i ate pretzels with
and fell asleep with while watching
donnie darko and **** bill.
he isn't the one who
sang songs to me, or
tickled me until i was sobbing, or
looked at me as if i was
the best girl in the world.
this was a whole new person.
and i didn't know a single
thing about him.

so now when all of this hits me
and i realize it's completely real,
that i lost my best friend and
the man i wanted to marry,
i realize that i've been
mourning this for a year now.
i lost him a long time ago.
i've dealt with this already.
i can smile now,
i can laugh.
i can finally be me again.

and while i know i'll always love him,
i can just remember those better years,
when we'd watch scary movies in the dark
and play myst and nancy drew in my basement.
i can just remember him as the boy
with summer across his cheeks
and a grin that made me giddy.
he was the healing i always needed and
i can never thank him enough.

the best thing that
ever happened to me,
and i miss you
with every fiber
of my being.


and it's sad to know
that we can never be
what we once were.

"She was a good friend of mine,
and every time I think about her
all I see is the lake we lived on in the summer
and all I smell is her dad's barbecue.
I hear the wind dragging the willow branches
into the water,
I feel the rain bounce off my skin
as we rowed to the island in the middle
of the lake.
She was a great girl,
and a wonderful woman.
I'll miss her every second of every day."

I was on a break from writing reports when I met her.
She was on the top of my building,
shakily sitting on the ledge,
the place where I used to gaze across the city.

Her hair was long and blonde,
whipping her skin as if chiding her
for sitting on the ledge of a 15 story building.
She didn't bother moving it out of her face,
and I noticed it was caught on
the corners of her lips and
the edge of her mascara covered lashes.

The scene felt like a dream-
never had I encountered someone up here
in my entire career.
She was wearing all red:
a flowing, sleeveless top,
a pair of wrinkle-free shorts,
her toes were painted to match.
The late summer sky
was beginning to blush,
reminding me of the boxed wine
I had left over from the engagement party
I threw the night before.

Her skin was milky,
and as I stared breathlessly
I wondered if I had ever seen her before.
I would've remembered her, surely.
I would've remembered her concerned eyes
and the arch of her eyebrows.
I would've recognized that slight scowl anywhere.

As she turned around,
my heart skipped a beat-
not because of how gracefully
and simply
she swung her bare feet over the ledge,
but because I was terrified
that she would fall off the building
and I'd never get to ask for her number.
Or why she wasn't wearing shoes
(this came as an afterthought).

She jumped oh so slightly
when she saw me.
(I panicked once again,
and awkwardly reached my arm out
as if to catch her if she started falling.)
We stared at each other for a moment,
until I broke the silence.

"Where are your shoes?"
As I spat out that question,
I realized she was probably wondering
how long I had been standing there,
dumbly staring at her.

I'm really good with the ladies, you see.