it’s moments like this
when i’m looking
at all of those *******
pictures.

football games,
dinner dates,
and just
cuddling in
my old bedroom,
do i realize
the truth.

neither i
nor you
came into
this
expecting
what
would
happen.

we knew
it was
possible.

we knew
all stories
had endings,
and we knew
we’d have
an ending,
some, one
day.

but i’m
looking at
these
******* pictures.

are you,
do you
ever do this?

your front,
right tooth
is chipped.

you always
missed
those
little
cheek hairs
that *******
drove me
insane
enough to chew
them up.

i didn’t see
that we
were chewing,
knawing
each other,
us,
apart.

i want
the very
best for
you
because
i *******
love you.

but, the thought
of you in pictures,
******* pictures,
with somebody else
at some football game,
dinner date,
or their childhood
bed where you were the
first or last,
person to cuddle them in,
isn’t something that
sits well with me.

it’s moments like
this when i realize
that despite the
crazy, ****** up,
what happened,
happened,
happens that
happened,
i’d love to take
another picture,
pictures with
you.

i’d be down
for another
football game or thousands.

i’d be down
for mexican,
chinese,
or whatever
dinner we’d be
digging for
that day.

i’d be down for
you to check out
my new place,
my space,
my bed.

i’d be down to cuddle
away what happened.

i’d be down to never
feel like i do in
moments like this
again.