I've been with you.
You stared at me from across the room with a smile that spoke of the silence that we were not breaking.
A silence we didn't mean to fill as four years had torn us apart and I can not believe that I can see you.
10 feet away in a lawn chair in our sister's living room and that's you.
Six feet, curly long hair, gentleness.
I ask you "what?" because i'm awaiting an explanation and a next movement, one more thing to rip me to pieces and throw me down the gutter and you answer "nothing" with a smirk and a feeling of content.
That's when I realized I didn't want to leave,
I could stay in that moment forever instead of  holding onto that memory indefinitelty.
I'm not good at saying goodbye or hello because i'm scared of what happens before, after, and inbetween.
I'm a coward, carrying a white flag surrendering to the sound of my heartbreak.
I didn't write about you because I didn't know how,
After hundreds of poems, thousands of feelings, so many many tears being dropped in your wake, I didn't know what to say
And I didn't want to leave you.