You were
The bookmark
In my life,
Tucked away between pages
I never wanted to reread.
You were the song that filled
Every silence,
Always singing me
words
That I
wanted to forget.
You were the heartbeat
Hammering in my chest,
When all I wanted
Was to be still.

And it's not the leaving that hurts, but rather, your ability to come back without making a sound.

I kept hoping over cracks only to fall hopelessly into holes. I continued to skip over bumps, only to be tripped by the mountains.

And the blinds hung crooked, so everyone could see...that even inside, things were terribly not right.

Maybe it was just a chapter, but you don't understand how desperately I wanted it to be an entire book.

There are a lot of things we should stop, and even more things we should start doing.

Tell me about the galaxies you had to cross to get here, about the beds you slept in before mine. Remind me that my life was something you grabbed up like raindrops in a drought.