I would say the feelings that you make me feel are complex and confusing,
But really they are so basic.
I miss you.
I want you.
I’m empty.
The simplicity of it is overwhelming.

It sickens me how much thought I let myself put into things.
I pictured us perched on fire escapes,
Potted plants surrounding the place we'd made into ‘home’.
You'd fill it with art because that's what's in your soul,
We'd fill it with books.
Selections of herbal teas would adorn the shelves of this borrowed place
And one day there were be a more permanent dwelling,
One we could really call our own.
Hidden away from the world as we both wish to be.
Watching every sunrise with my head against your shoulder,
Coffee in hand(caffeine has always been our common downfall)  
You would go running, and I'd wait for your return,
My hands stroking my keyboard in a familiar rhythm both of us had grown used to.

And we'd share with each other a new creation each night.
You’d read me poetry before bed,
And our laughter would bellow into the still night.
We'd flow together in that endless sort of way,
Bodies gliding against each other with the ease and comfort of home.
Because there was really no way I'd ever tire of you.  
  
I used to confidently tell people how I was the happiest person in the world.
Now I repeat that line and it's emptiness leaves a slow ache in my guts.
I'm waiting for you.
If anyone asks me, I deny my feelings
Because your rejection (however non-confrontational it was) stings badly on a person who doesn't usually feel.

I look at pictures of you and it's obvious to me the reasons why I love you.
It's that dimple,
Your smile,
The way your loud and musical laughter echoes in my head when I see something that reminds me of you.
They're so real even though it's been far too long since I've seen you.


And as the drinks pass through my lips
I hear my drunk self stammering your name.
I’m making a fool of myself, tears candidly falling from my eyes.
(such a fool you’ve made me)
My friends watch me in horror, terrified of this sick thing I've become.
And it makes me feel more than terrible to know that I'm worrying them.
They’re all so afraid for me, and the way I can’t seem to let go of the last few memories.
Everyone has become so worried for me.
And I’ve become so disenchanted from it all.

It's vicious what you gave me and how you turned around and took more than that away.
I've never felt quite this empty
The others before you took nothing of me when they left.
And you—you took it all;
Everything I once viewed as important.

Everyone talks about getting lost in someone
And I did That with her.
But with you I wasnt even a little bit lost.
I remember every detail of each day we spent together
(probably because I never felt like there was quite enough)

It seems now that the only thing I'm lost in is life and how to exclude you from it.
It's been an aching bunch of weeks since we’ve last spoken
But still today the first thing I thought of was telling you about my funny dream.
I still find myself with the urge to send you a message.
I picture us with all our guy friends, sitting down to sushi again.
(Cucumber avocado rolls were always both our favourite)
Even though one of them has moved across the country
And I’ve allowed myself to become so detached from everyone else.

Sometimes I catch myself wondering how it’s possible that you don’t think of me.
And how all those drunken nights,
Sushi dates,
Cuddle sessions and hikes with our dogs can just disappear into the recesses of your mind.
(Then again it's always easier to be the one who ran off with another than it is to be the one you ran away from.)

You like snails and I like sloths.
And I think it’s funny because the last thing we ever did was waste our time slowly.
I feel like we lived all of our months in the fast lane,
And I bit down on all the ridiculous words I wanted to tell you,
But love is something I’ve learned you should never keep tucked under your tongue.
And my voice is so lost now into this hollow thing that is my life,
That there is no way I could let out all things I was supposed to say.

Today at my job I filed away all of September’s paperwork into a box no one is ever going to see.
It's an aching reminder that time is passing even though it's not passing with you.
And the first frost will soon be upon us,
And you will curl up beside her.
But I have the pleasure of sleeping in a memory each and every night.
I remember the way your body fit mine.
And not once on any night we spent together did you let me go.