just like I promised I would.

I found it yesterday, in the
beginning pages

of this journal you gave me. There was
a scrawled note under the only line,

with a careless rectangle drawn around it.
I must've written the note quickly,

a few days after you dropped
me off for the last time.

"I'm sorry I never finished it,"
I wrote. And I am. 

I'm sorry I never finished it for you
to see. I hope this one will do.

let go of the things not meant for you,
but hold on tightly to the things that are.
allow yourself to feel the pain when your heart biffs it,
but don’t let the pain hinder your growth.
you are an open wound.

the rain will sting.
but the blood will always wash away.

I want something that I cannot have. I cannot have it because I don't truly know what it is. I've seen it polished and propped as if it were on display and I've heard the stories of how much time and effort it took to make it look as such. But I want it. I want love. I want the idea of it at least.
I want the fights brought about by events simpler and less important than the time we wasted to have them. I want to be pained by the sight of her pain and know that the feeling of knives piercing my chest when I see her cry is there because I would literally drive them there myself, if only to prevent her tears.
I want our laughs to intertwine over the smallest things and our conversations to stretch our minds over the biggest. I want to see you sleep at night and I'll smile because I know that you're finally at peace. And I want you to smile when you wake up because you know that I'm fighting to make your reality better than your dreams.
I want love. I want romantic love, I want crazy love. I want passion. I want to pick you up in my arms and in that brief present get lost in your presence. I want to be in you when I am in you and have you wish that I would stay forever. I want to be in your heart and mind, and I want our love to be torturous and blind.
I just want love. I want the idea of it at least.

when your small,
little world spins
crazily
             (madly)
out of control,
take a moment.
take a breath.

and let it go.
it will come
back to you.

The thing is, you can't wait around
for someone, expecting them to come back.
You can't wait for them to wake up one morning
and have it dawn on them that ****, they lost someone
irreplaceable. You can't do that to yourself.
You deserve someone who sees you and sees the world.
Someone who sees you at your absolute worst and still
thinks you are the absolute best. You can't wait
for someone to change their mind about you.
Someone else will come along one day, and they will choose
you over and over again, every single morning,
and you will be glad you didn't spend anymore time
wishing for a person who didn't love you enough to stay.

Last night I read your poem
in bed instead of writing
like I'd said I would.  I
had to start over twice
because my eyes aren't
as good as my heart
when it comes to stopping
and starting at pauses
heavy with losses.  Lost
causes and me seem to be
your specialties. Especially me.