I think of you sometimes.
Not often, but I do,
All the same.
When I tune out the static and turn off my brain,
The pulsating "I-hate-you's" cease for a while,
And I'm forced to remember what used to be.
What used to be mine and
What used to be yours.
What used to make me happy for a split-second interval
Inside the membrane of melancholy.
That is what I think of when I can't fall asleep
On nights like tonight;
I see your bed. No; the backseat
Of your car,
4 o clock am in the middle of January,
Parked on dirt roads, we used to drive away from the
Lights of our city because no one could
Accept us back then. It was just you and I back then
And we used to poison each other even though we knew
We weren't supposed to touch.
(I should have listened to my friends)
I never knew what you needed me to say
So I said nothing.
You would always fall asleep.
I could never allow myself to dream of something better
Than you and the backseat of your car.
There's something about these places we've been
and the places we've lain that seem so distant
To me (maybe I want them to be).
My body aches when I remember the
Smell of your skin, but then I remember
That you never knew me.
I think I loved you (or at least the thought of you).
Thoughts of you.
"It was easy", you said,
But it was never easy for me.
Now it seems so easy to forget your face
And the way you used to make me laugh.
It seems easier now.
Until the storm ends and I'm left alone in my own mind.
Alone with you
I'll never survive.