Forgetting someone is like forgetting to turn off the light
     in the backyard so it stays lit all the next day

But then it is the light that makes you remember.

“Love” is too strong of a word.
I’m not there yet.

“Like” isn’t strong enough
to describe the heartpounding feeling I get when I’m near you.

“Interested” conveys a more accurate meaning for how I feel
But also lacks emotion…

I think the word that takes the prize to describe me perfectly is
“CRUSH”.

Because if nothing happens but this feeling, I’ll be dissapointed and left with a crush
But if something happens and it doesn’t work out
I will be
Crushed.

Liz had hers on a Wednesday afternoon
in her car. She tells me about it over lunch;
a backseat full of groceries and halfway home,
she felt something breaking inside her,
so she drove to the lake and sat very still, waiting.

Then it happened, she says, I broke right open.
I wept, then sobbed, then wailed. There was no bottom.

She says she may have even fallen asleep, she doesn't know;
she does know that she eventually stopped crying,
that inside she felt like the fields must feel after a hard rain.

Here, she says, moving her hand to her chest, I just felt brand new again.
I'm a better wife now, she says, a better person.

Good, Liz, good, I say.

I don't tell her about that morning in the shower,
when the water warmed me but could not console me,
or how I'm no better for it.