you were a morning in july
and october afternoons
of autumn sunshine.
you were golden hair
and perpetual smiles
and shoes that were wrong
for the season — you were
indifferent, you were suitcases
and misspelled dreams
and flowery perfumes and
burnt grilled cheese.

you became
more heavy-hearted,
and you didn’t smile so often —
you were worried and more hurried
and more drunk than you remembered;
you made me become a life raft,
started caring about fashion
and complained about the weather
and I never knew what happened
to the girl you were before.

and I wanted, still, to love you
and to be the things you needed
but what I needed was oxygen —
not ashes
in my lungs.

see, I couldn’t
breathe
around you;
so I chose to be without you.

but I am in love — forever —
with a fading memory;
with your blue jeans
and your green eyes
and your golden certainty.

and the truth is I still miss you
and the “we” that could have been,

miss your fire and your heartache
and each second in between,
miss the camping trips and souvenirs
and your restless reckless style

and

the truth is, I’ve been
missing
you

a while.