I miss you here
I miss you there
I miss those sweet sounds in my ear

And I miss you there
I miss you here
I miss my fingers in your hair

my heart, it aches
And longs
For your your embrace

So I miss you now
I miss you then
I miss the long nights in that bed

Who else have you made bleed?
I found the pleasure in the pain
Although i knew i was never a "need"

I miss you then
I miss you now
Where on earth
Have you ran to
Anyhow?

140 sunsets, 16,128,000 heartbeats, a few nights of crying myself to sleep, and many "i'm over it's" later and the memory of you is still everywhere. It still exists in my great, big, vast imagination and in the most obscure spots of my reality. No matter how much i try to take you out and erase you from every part of me, you stay. You stick. A permanent imprint on my heart, on my body, on my soul. I see you in every sunset, the reds and oranges and pinks remind me of fall, they remind me of september and sundays and the blood dripping from my bottom lip. I remember when we would lay down together, you would sleep and i would hold you. I would twirl my fingers in your hair and look at your chest, rising and falling. I would try to match your breaths, to slow down my heart and match yours. To move together. Sometimes i wonder if the drumming in your chest still matches mine, i really hope it does. On the nights filled with sobs and tears, i would talk to you. Through the dark i whispered to you, a couple miles across the bed. "I miss you. let me come see you, tell me you love me (even if you dont) cause i still love you." It may seem silly, but if you felt your heart jump or your stomach sink on a late night in march, it was my words finally reaching you. And with all of the anger that had built up in me, please don't think any of it was directed at you. Harsh words may have left my lips, but trust me, only feelings of love resided in my chest for you. I was angry at fate, at myself, at every person and thing that wedged it's way between us. I was angry at everything but you, it was just too difficult to explain. You are still here, despite the months that have passed. They say time heals everything, but your memory is here to stay.

I'm scared to say your name. I'm scared because it was real. The look my mom gives me when we pass your house is real. The letter i keep in my keep-safe box is real, palpable. The memories captured in pictures are real, although they seem like ghosts all these months later. The trust i had in you was real, more real than anything i'd ever known. What i gave to you was real, every breath exhaled into you, every gaze, every i love you, every thing i've ever written, every tear i've cried, was real. It only hurts when it's real. I hope by avoiding your name, the pictures, the letter, the poems, it will all become a little less real. That it will feel like none of it ever happened, so i can finally go on with my life without this constant aching in my chest and your name on the tip of my tongue.

Where are you, and why can i hear you? Why can i hear your words in my ears and feel your hands on mine and why can i feel you hesitantly coming closer? You move towards me while my left hand is begging you to back away and my right hand is motioning for you to come closer. You say things that i want to hear but im not sure if im willing to believe. I cant fall, i cant do this to myself again. So i stand gripping on to everything i've ever known. I hold close to my mother, my father, i hold close to their wisdom. I hold close to my passion, i hold close and it makes my heart overflow with love and fire and sore cheeks. I hold close to the friends that build me up like sand castles and make my stomach hurt from laughing. But i still feel myself slipping, and its the scariest feeling i've ever known... because i am often imagining things.

I wonder if you've stumbled across that letter. I wonder if each word made your heart jump and hit your rib cage, if your chest all of a sudden got heavy. I wonder if you let tears leave your eyes before you wipe them away. I wonder if your hands shake and your legs become weak even though you had been sitting all night. I wonder if the moon whispers you things like "she is" or "holding tight" or "blue eyes are blurry." I wonder if you listen to ed anymore. I wonder if you're writing, hoping to see my passion on the paper when you finish. I wonder who's hair you have on your pillow. I wonder how your mom is doing. I wonder if your skin crawls with the memory of my finger tips. I often wonder, because i hope you're wondering too.

I just don't know how to love like that. I know soft love, the kind i have for my friends and my family. I know tough love, the kind i have for myself. I know passionate love, the kind i have for pens and paper and sweating. I know ***** love, the kind i had for those boys in my past. I know adoring love, the kind i have for my god and my precious dog. But clean, healthy, simple love... that is something i'm not familiar with. So please forgive me, although i've played the part, i'm not your love. I don't know how to love you, and i wish you could forget how to love me.

We say "this is my life" like we actually believe its ours. Like we are the only ones who feel, like everyone else is an illusion. Because this is "our life," we are the only ones who feel and our mind is the only reality. This is everyone's life, every second that passes by is a little life. What makes you, or me, or him, so special that these little lives belong only to us? They belong to the universe, to the earth, to the animals, to nature, to each and every soul. It is not only your life, but everyone's, and everything's. With so much interdependence in this world, its the least we can do - to make each others little lives, a little bit more enjoyable.