snorting coke makes me feel closer to god
she sung to me as i turned the lights off
and walked out of the room,
an aching in my back.
the only year i can remember is 2014,
before you grew your hair out,
and i didnt know your real name.
my sister is in her bedroom asleep.
having ******* dreams mixed with codeine.
i want to die in your basement.
as the footsteps are over my head,
we wont be sleeping tonight,
i’ve stopped getting high.
the only year i can remember is 2014,
and how your lips were cold.
and the times i lied and told my mother i was sick,
so i could lay in bed
and pretend the sheets were your arms.
but since then-
i have learned my bedsheets cannot touch my face and kiss my cheeks.
i am not in love with you anymore.
as flowers rot in-between my toes
and i watch explosions on tv screens.
nothing is real.
the only year i can remember is 2014.
i am not alone.
you are making me hot chocolate
and looking at the snow through your window
as the granite countertops reflect your figure,
i am holding onto to nothing-
and there is nothing all that important in my life I’m afraid of letting go of.
i let our knees touch in your basement.
i am completely vulnerable,
you are close to me.
but now you feel so far away, as i see you there by the pine trees.
i want to tell you how there is so much i remember about you that has been
sitting dormant in my head,
and how every moment with you seemed so beautiful, and how you will always mean so much to me.
the only year i remember is 2014.
we are meeting for the first time,
and i barely know anything about you,
not even your real name.
not even what your voice sounds like.
i sit next to you as you show me your favorite songs.
and i tell you about my favorite things,
as the autumn leaves fall on concrete,
the suburbs feel endless.
my voice doesn’t shake around you.
i don’t think much of it,
maybe you just make me feel different.
maybe i knew i’d have a tough time letting you go,
maybe i still am.
for many years,
i told myself we met at the wrong time,
now i am not so sure of that.
it is November 2014
and i am crying in your parents basement
i cant remember anything that had happened that year,
i was so alone,
but i feel you put your head next to mine.
i have something important in my life i am holding onto,
and do not want to let go of.
i should’ve held on tighter.
its December 8th 2017,
and I’m sitting in my dorm room,
throwing cigarettes into my trash can,
they have been making me feel sick.
all i can remember is 2014,
and how much every moment meant to me.
the girl i loved back then isn’t real anymore.
i see her sometimes, but she is different.
i am glad.
i pull my covers over my head,
knowing i am missing someone who was never really mine in the first place,
and doesn’t exist now and maybe never did.
i have nothing left to hold onto,
and nothing I’m afraid of letting go of.
i am alone.