my everything. you wrote me a letter and i found it floating in a bottle. i read your poem like it was a taste of a few yesterday you forgot like all of our promises. and when the little girl runs up to me with a seashell begging me to listen for the waves, how do i tell her that the only thing i hear is your absence? how do i tell you that some parts of my life move much slower when you're not in them? how do i tell you that i search for your face in the clouds or that your voicemail is my favorite song? it's been storming for days in my head since you left and for a moment i swear i heard your voice in the wind say:
"my heart will find its way home to you the day the waves quit being faithful to the shore."
i didn't ever crave the beach the way you did, but you know i would have tolerated it to hold your hand. and i always hated how our feet sank to hell when we walked in the sand but you always reminded me that one of us had to break the ice. our feet broke the surface with ever step just the way our parents broke their marriages word by word. and i can't help but see coffins in my fathers eyes every time i mention my mother's name but i won't ever forget the time he prayed to a god he used to think existed, begging for my mother to let him see his children on father's day. you see i read your poem in that bottle that never should have reached me and just as splinters must be pulled out, every memory i have ever had of you should be too. so i will tuck the tattered paper back into that bottle and send it off for the next little girl who stumbles on it so that maybe she will learn before i ever did that love isn't what it's cracked up to be.