you used to leap over mountains
     to reach me
you used to sail through the seas
     to see me
you used to journey through darkness
     to hold me

and now you can't be bothered to do anything at all.
          because you simply "dont have the time."
                                                            s
                                                              o
                                                  s                  q
                                                e                      u
because t                              i                           i
                  i                         l                              c
                     m                 f                                  k
                          e                                                   l
                                                                                y


and then days become weeks,
weeks become months
& then it's becomes years since we've spoken

you say you don't have time,
but they say that you make time for the
          people
                          you
                                      love.

your smiles were contraband, smuggled
from late mornings in the kitchen;
your eyes were the deep dark green of
pine trees; bottled wine.

you were dew and early rays of sunshine
and the lightest thing I've seen.


today, I scrolled past a photo of you
and it didn't break my heart.
this is what moving on must look like:
drinking coffee without thinking
of your dress two christmases ago,
without thinking of your burnt food
and firelight laughter and slow-dancing
in your bedroom to fast music.

I still can't sleep on your side of the bed;


nevertheless

I remember you less clearly; have forgotten
what your hands felt like going through my hair,
no longer know the precise melody of your voice
when you got angry, no longer know the intonation
of 'I love yous' from your lips, and I no longer
wish to know.

and so although I am forever loving you
I am in love & letting go.

I despise the word 'loss",
it implies that something CAN be found,
but I know that I will
Never find you again.
So, next time you see me crying on the street,
don't tell me your sorry for my loss
because
I know your words like the back of my hand,
stolen from a card,
not given by the heart.

It's one of those times where I don't know what to do.
They say, "follow your heart," but it only leads back to you.
It's like a continuous circle that never seems to end.
But at the end of the day we both know we can't be just friends.
You're the air in my lungs when I can't seem to breathe.
You're the calm voice telling me to stay when all I want to do is leave.
You fill me with happiness I haven't felt in a while.
Just the sound of your sweet voice can instantly make me smile.
We try and try to make this work for the both of us.
But every time it ends you tell me it's because it was rushed.
Then in week, you'll come back to me with regret.
You'll tell me you messed up and I'm the best you'll ever get.
You'll hurt me forever if it heals yourself.
Because to you my love is nothing but a box on a shelf.
But then the circle will start up once again,
Because we both know we can never be just friends.