i've done it so many times, missing people
missing love. it's become a profession for me,
missing people who i separate from -

i've come to face these bitter feelings of
abandonment, being forgotten -
like, i, was ever someone to remember in the first place
years and years ago -

10-years-old and missing the other little children
who tugged on my clammy hand but laughed anyways
at my shy eyes and bugged out baby hairs
because their sandy hands dried out my nervousness
on the playground among giggles and "sandman!"s
their hair whirlwinds on their heads as we spun around
on tire swings until we were scared we'd throw up on ourselves
and we'd smell the whole way home
together

i still remember the day that i told you that your
bracelet of popcan tabs and little hair rubberbands
and dollar store beads and bells was
cute - i liked the way that it weighed in my clammy palm
and how colourful it shined,
how stretchy it stretched and never threatened to snap in
my tiny sticky fingers, it was the loveliest thing i'd ever seen.
and i still remember the day you showed up at school
with one for me, too, because it was only the next day
and your fingertips were raw with little cuts from yanking
aluminum tabs off of cans and black circles ringed your eyes as
you smiled and held it out for me

i couldn't ever remember feeling any warmth like that before

why was i ever so sour in the first place
of being forgotten anyways? maybe it wasn't that i was terrified of
being lost among people's "remember that one girl" and "what was
her name again"s, but perhaps i was just horrified of the things that
constantly switched up around me, and these warm memories
were the only things that would never switch up on me
without me being able to catch my breath first.

i still remember the day we skipped down high school hallways
with our eyes drooped and red and our mouths bone dry,
smelly hoodies draped over our uniforms,
i couldn't believe how clammy
our intertwined hands were but we still laced our fingers and spun
in sharp turns, laughing down quiet corridors  -
"did you know that i'm gay? i've never told anyone before."
you whispered in a rush to me, and you confided in me like
i was important -

why did i call it being abandoned when i was just as near
to you to reach out and grab you as you were near to me?
you've reached out to me and tugged on my sleeve but i'd sit
there and watch you and i'd feel your warm fingers slip away from my
skin,
i'd never felt your skin on mine again.

and i still remember the times we'd laugh and share jokes,
make personal whispered secrets, "we'll probably only
have time for each other again after work when we're career women,"
but even as i sit here in the same ******* room
of the past week and a half of wallowing in wonder,
wondering why i feel so empty and at a loss and like a hole,
my hands are clammy and miss the warmth of a pretty bracelet in my hand-

"you never wore it anyways."

-and your fingers between mine-

"you never text me back when i want to see you!"

i feel so lost,
i don't feel missed
although i probably was,
but i missed
something
and miss it so much