Apr 2018
You left
but seeing the blue of your eyes mirrored in the sky
on a hot August day takes me back
to that first summer when the freckles on my skin were as prominent as the seeds in the middle of the sunflowers
your neighbor planted next door a few months back.
The rain hitting the cracked pavement outside the window of my favorite coffee shop
is a constant reminder of the day you told me about heartache
that would never stop hurting no matter how many ice cream cones we ate
in that old tree house we build in the 8th grade.
Seeing waves crash into one another with my toes in the sand
sends flashbacks of that cold, January trip where the wind was so strong
you didn’t even want to get out of the car to show me the spot you ran to
when life was becoming too much to just nod and smile through.
Running the paths along the river where the railroad tracks used to be
makes my muscles ache just like they did that day we avoided all responsibilities
and decided to climb the rock wall because we were too lazy to hike an actual trail
but too ambitious to stay inside and watch a rerun of Saturday Night Live.
Sitting in my car waiting for the train to clear the tracks reminds me of the countless September nights
we spent sitting on my porch snacking and listening to the train three blocks over
wondering and wishing it would pick us up and take us anywhere else.
Bubble gum popping is echos the memory when you popped my huge hubba bubba bubble
at the drive in the night you bribed me into seeing that action movie
you knew I didn’t want to see, but insisted on anyway.
Clowns at the Memorial day parade tossing candy to the kids lining the street
mimic the Skittles you threw at me as you screamed “I told you so”
when I finally admitted to liking that rapper you never shut up about.
Any scary movie haunts me like the Mexican restaurant off the corner of West Main Street
because it was there you told me you were leaving.
I’m sitting here considering burning my favorite blue and white stripped sweater
you gave me for my 21st birthday because it was the last time
you told me everything was going to be alright.
It didn’t matter that I moved away
because I saw you in the face of strangers passing on the street.
I’ll never get to send you off or give you away
things have changed and both of us have grown
but we live in a world made of each other
so we’ll never be alone.
but seeing the blue of your eyes mirrored in the sky
on a hot August day takes me back
to that first summer when the freckles on my skin were as prominent as the seeds in the middle of the sunflowers
your neighbor planted next door a few months back.
The rain hitting the cracked pavement outside the window of my favorite coffee shop
is a constant reminder of the day you told me about heartache
that would never stop hurting no matter how many ice cream cones we ate
in that old tree house we build in the 8th grade.
Seeing waves crash into one another with my toes in the sand
sends flashbacks of that cold, January trip where the wind was so strong
you didn’t even want to get out of the car to show me the spot you ran to
when life was becoming too much to just nod and smile through.
Running the paths along the river where the railroad tracks used to be
makes my muscles ache just like they did that day we avoided all responsibilities
and decided to climb the rock wall because we were too lazy to hike an actual trail
but too ambitious to stay inside and watch a rerun of Saturday Night Live.
Sitting in my car waiting for the train to clear the tracks reminds me of the countless September nights
we spent sitting on my porch snacking and listening to the train three blocks over
wondering and wishing it would pick us up and take us anywhere else.
Bubble gum popping is echos the memory when you popped my huge hubba bubba bubble
at the drive in the night you bribed me into seeing that action movie
you knew I didn’t want to see, but insisted on anyway.
Clowns at the Memorial day parade tossing candy to the kids lining the street
mimic the Skittles you threw at me as you screamed “I told you so”
when I finally admitted to liking that rapper you never shut up about.
Any scary movie haunts me like the Mexican restaurant off the corner of West Main Street
because it was there you told me you were leaving.
I’m sitting here considering burning my favorite blue and white stripped sweater
you gave me for my 21st birthday because it was the last time
you told me everything was going to be alright.
It didn’t matter that I moved away
because I saw you in the face of strangers passing on the street.
I’ll never get to send you off or give you away
things have changed and both of us have grown
but we live in a world made of each other
so we’ll never be alone.
