your hair was long
when I first knew you.
it was straight and golden
mussed all together from weeks
and weeks without seeing a brush.

now it falls unordered
a frizzy explosion
of uneven curls
just as wild as it ever was
but darker
and shorter
more like a lion’s mane
than a waterfall
more like you
and less like all the weight
of all the world
was woven into its strands
to make it fall so straight.

and you talked about tomorrows
like a breeze
you did.
whatever direction felt right
is where you’d go
and it made me smile to think
that I was sailing a boat
not with someone who knew the wind
or where it blows
but with the wind her very self.

your tomorrow now
is much more solid
than it’s ever really been.
you’ve kept the wind with you
(as I always knew you would)
and it’s not that I
don’t know how to sail
I just miss having the wind with me
always
always.
I always used
to have the wind.

maybe I relied too much on you
maybe I always knew you’d leave
maybe I convinced myself
I’d never have to look
for something I thought I had
something I never really had to begin with.

maybe I miss you.

no one talks to me
about tomorrows anymore.
I think I know why.
I think you were right
to shed all that weight
from your hair
to shed the weight
of tomorrow
maybe even
to shed my weight.

maybe you were right
to shed my weight and I’m sorry
I’m sorry because I know
I know I meant more to you
than that
I know if you read this
you would shake your head
I know what I meant to you.
I just don't know what I mean to me.

your hair was long
when I first knew you.
I want to see
what it looks like
tomorrow.
will you let me see it then?