I’m barely a poet,
yet you’re still my muse.
I say it doesn’t hurt-
that my purpose is views.
Steps I take forward
toward moving along
make you more distant,
and that feels ******* wrong.

I know that you know and
it could never be the same.
I just have to figure out
how to remove ache from your name.
The letters, they hurt
when they sit side by side-
and to hear them out loud?
A blast to my mind.

Because I like to spiral,
to wonder and dream.
I erased our messages-
yet here you come on my screen.
You can’t give me an inch-
I will dream a whole mile.
I’ve been that way always,
since I was a child:
hoping and loving
and dreaming for better.
I hate accepting reality-
and this ****** weather.

I can romanticize rain
and thunder and storms,
pretend they can heal me,
make me accept new norms.
But I miss my lover,
so quiet, so sweet,
and leaving that love
drowning feels like defeat.