here i am, clutching tight to your memory with my fists. it’s all i have left to hold without your hands.

children will tell about our love around a campfire like a ghost story because that’s what we’ve become –
the difference is, i want to be haunted by you.
please: switch the lights on and off, slam the doors,
i’ll leave lots of pots and pans on the counter for you to knock around the house.
i won’t fix the creak in the door just so i can hear you come and go.

one of the reasons you left in the first place was so i wouldn’t sit around and wait for you,
yet here i am: sitting around, waiting for you.
i don’t want to do anything else, i don’t think you understand.
i haven’t given up. i’m pulling out all the stops, i’m coming out of the gate with my fists swinging,
i am willing to fight for our love in a way you never were.

i am forcing myself to swallow every single i miss you
i don’t want to admit that losing you feels like losing a limb
i don’t want to admit that i’m still thinking about that afternoon in the car when i felt safe for the first time.
chin up, baby, and be patient,
look at the sky, look at your hands. look at the sky again.
i wish i could know if it means something.