sometimes you’re all that consumes my thoughts. so much that i can’t help but to write about you. some days a sentence, others a paragraph, but on the hard days i can construct a short story. “The Story of You and I: A Tragedy”  then afterwards delete it. just to get it out there, to let my feelings feel valid and heard, even if only by myself.

other times i write you a letter telling you how much i miss you, how i wonder if your mom is doing okay, or if you still think of me when our song comes on. i end it with a, “p.s. do you  still smile when you see the color yellow?”
then i stick it in the mail, stamp it but leave it addressed to no one, sent from no one.

when it’s too much i sometimes call your old number to listen to your stupid, cheesy
voicemail we made together. i never even make it past our voices intertwined with laughs followed by, ”hey this is..."

but when i completely stop fighting the thoughts of you, i drive to the place where you first kissed me, and let the song play that you left me listening to when you told me i would never be it for you.

i sit and let myself hurt, let myself scream into the air that you never deserved me.
i pretend you can hear me. i even pretend you actually care.

and then i drive home.