sometimes when i
look at you
i think,
maybe i was
born to tell you
how beautiful
you are.

maybe.

don't ever tell me that you
were never mine.

when for months on end
when you couldn't sleep
you texted me at 3:00 a.m.

i would stay awake for
you and talk you down
from whatever hell was
occurring in your mind.

some nights you wouldn't
text me. and I would
stay up anyway,

writing obituaries all
night long.

I am building sandcastles out
of the love letters you
will one day write me.

Some sand will blown away,
and these become unspoken
promises and silent words
hanging in the air
between us.

We will build our
sandcastle to be beautiful.

And we will build it to
inevitably wash away.

like hydrangeas,
you must allow yourself to bleed.
to fade from one truth
to another like from
blue to purple to pink.

i convinced myself that you loved me in the same way i would swear i heard hooves on my roof late on Christmas Eve. it was just so very real, until it wasn't.