this once more I think summers coming soon
and she'll offer nostalgia to heal these persistent wounds
with softer winds
for paling skin
and empty promises full of good intentions
she'll preach to me unlearnable lessons
she'll take me deeper into the hot cold night
out of mind out of sight
when things don't need answering
and I'm most in tune with her being
It's just like you said this time last year
"Don't worry, I think summers almost here"

Have you ever tried to run with any kind of baggage?
Maybe it was the airport and you were late for your flight
Maybe it was a purse
or a backpack
or groceries
if you have then
You know the agitating experience of not having full range of motion to get were you're going
You know the gnawing temptation to put down whatever it is you're carrying
Only I can't put him down
I can't let him go
and it's a hindrance not to where I'm going
but rather where it is I've been trying so desperately to leave

The words of pages you lent me steal my thoughts and consume my helpless mind, my helpless heart.  
My helpless heart still loves you and you didn't know.
You didn't know that was the last time I'll see you for some time.
Some time apart is all I can do because I can't do this anymore.
I can't do this anymore and I didn't tell you.
I didn't tell you that I can't afford your presence.
I can't afford to sit by while the seconds count the times you break my heart.
My heart can't take the conversations we have.
The conversations we have can't stop hinting at the future we might have had.
The future we might have had consumes my helpless mind, my helpless heart.

I've been sinking back into old familiar negative spaces
Missing him is home and I've felt so nostalgic tracing fingertips along the abandoned walls of the place
Missing him was not once such an empty promise, but rather a means to an end.  The end came and left but the missing didn't.
I'm letting myself miss him once again, this once more

I harbor a profound appreciation for humans out there in the world that shatter the silence.  If you've met or heard of them-if you've shared an environment, a conversation, a moment.  There are people in this world that don't speak for the sake of speaking, to be heard by others, or even themselves.  They don't seek to fill the silence.  Rather the silence holds a mass all it's own and the spilling of their words into the already filled space causes this overflow-this unrest in the space occupied.  Their thoughts and sounds and words drop like smoothed stones into a body of silenced water-with rippling affects seemingly infinite.  They acknowledge that silence and expression are not juxtaposed but would in fact be non existent without the other.  Silence and there lack of.

And every time I'm left or every time I do the leaving
there is change
there's new music on my sleep playlist
there is the imprint of words shared, or maybe not shared
theres the loitering of scents in the deepest particles of my cloths

And every time I'm gone from his life or he's done the going
there's his name doodled in the margins of my notes for a while
there is the shadow of his hand on the small of my back
and the trace of his lips on mine
there still remains the sound of his breathing, of his heartbeat

Whether I am the leaver or the left, the heartbreaker or the broken hearted, the winner or loser: there is always this time of transition.  This testament to how intertwined our lives were for a period.  But with him it never ended.  I am still so utterly haunted by his absence and as the others fade I watch his absence become ever present, ever growing.

I still have what's yours
and I tell myself as long as I have it
I have the insurance that you will come back for it
this is my guarentee that I will at least see you again one day
at the very least
but what if not seeing me outweighs what it is I have of yours and you abandon me all the same?
I'm just hoping you won't forget to gather up what it is you left here
I don't want to be stuck holding onto something you're never coming back for