Love isn’t always on time,

And I’m kind of a late person myself.

So hopefully love and I will collide in the intersection,
Both thinking we could have made the yellow light.

I hope love and I stumble through the door,
Awkwardly,
One after the other,
One minute after the late bell,
Being forced to take two seats toward the front of the class.
At least we are next to each other.

I hope that love and I both happen to download Pokémon Go,
And run into each other in some park somewhere.
Claiming “this game is great!”
Almost two years after it was released.

I hope that love and I show up to the same party,
Not so late that everyone has gone home,
Passed out,
Or been arrested.
But kind of late enough to where everyone already has something to do,
And we can share a couch together.
And hopefully there is a dog there,
So we can both catch the warmth in each other’s face,
The innocence in each other’s eyes,
While we pet the canine.

I hope that love and I can one day stare periodically at each other from across the gym floor because our favorite machines are taken.

I hope that love and I bump into each other in a crowded mall somewhere on a frigid Christmas Eve because we forgot to buy gifts.

I hope that love and I end up on the same waiting list because we waited a little too long to realize we needed Bio 110 to graduate.

I hope that love and I both curse our bedroom walls because we missed our alarms.

I hope that love and I share the same 2:30 am thoughts before a 5:30 am rude awakening.

I hope that love and I both put on ***** laundry sometimes because we’ve forgot we had to be somewhere and misjudged the amount of time it would take to drive there.

I hope that love and I are both shaking the tiredness off as we both race to meet the 12:00 midnight deadline.

I hope that love and I don’t mind eating dinner at 9:00 pm sometimes,
And breakfast at 2:00 pm sometimes.

Honestly,

I hope love and I find each other one day.

I just hope I’m not late.

Some days I stand at your grave,
And others I just want to crawl into it with you.
I feel like your death killed a little of me, too.

There are parts of me that the breath has been choked out of.
Others where the color in my skin has gone pale.
There are parts of me that have obituaries detailing their demise.

The life was taken out of you,
And in a way, it felt like the life was taken out of me too.
I’m still trying to find a way out of this grave I call a body.

I stare at the grave that holds your body.

And all I can think is “Man, this is killing me.”

But one day,
I will find a way out of this self-holding grave.
I will find a shred of life.

And then,
With all the life I can muster up,
I will live for you.

Sometimes, in life, bad things might happen to us.
Sometimes, we have no control over it.
Sometimes, the bad things could destroy who we are.
Sometimes, all we may want is for someone to believe us.

Sometimes, all we may want is some closure.
All we want is to get close to some semblance of closure.
Close to some semblance of having our normal lives back.
Sometimes, all we want is to get close to who we used to be.

Sometimes, we may not get closure…

But with every smile,
With every helping hand,
With every passionate kiss,
With every crutch to lean on,
With every encouraging word,
With every arm to fall into,
With every bit of comfort,
With every drop of joy,

We can get closer.