The stars on my ceiling turn my room into a galaxy,
Suddenly standing on the precipice of another world
Where little comets race down like snow
It's so cold, outer space is so, so cold
But it's my secluded little world, so here,
Pull on a blanket and grab a mug
Tea steeps much quicker here
And oh, how much deeper we fall in love.

they want your first words—your last words
but nothing in between

do not read between the lines

there is nothing written there

Skies like sheets of shale
floated above our pretty heads,
shedding fat drops of rain
upon an unseasonably warm
December day in Michigan.

I broke free from your grip
beneath our shared plastic umbrella,
ran into the yard
and spun around six times,
arms outstretched like an albatross,
face upturned to the miles and miles
of unbroken grey clouds.

I stopped and called to you,
fly with me.
as my palms turned up
and reached for you, involuntarily.

You laughed, staccato,
and your ambiguous smile
was nothing more than
an ugly daguerreotype
set before a landscape
of compassionate trees.

I'd rather not get wet,
you said

and I think
I've always resented you
for that.

Today, I forgot to remember you.
For once, I didn't give you a thought.
I was able to get through my whole shift,
Ignoring the pain your abcense has brought.

Today, I forgot to remember the feeling,
Of being held safely in your embrace.
And for once on my drive home,
I didn't slow down near your old place.

Today I forgot to remember to call,
To hear your voicemail play.
I'll never again hear you greet me "Hey Sugar"
Or tell me "Have a blessed day".

Today I remembered to accept,
That you have left and passed on.
And though I know I will see you again,
I wish every day, that you weren't gone.