sometimes i just want to write.
sometimes i just want to say,
“i still remember the way you hurt me.”
and sometimes, i want to say,
“it still hurts, you know.”
sometimes i want to let you know
how angry i am.
sometimes all i want to say is,
“*******,” and “goodbye.”
sometimes i want to write down
all of the words i’m too afraid to say, like
“i liked your pajama pants” or
“you’re uglier than i remembered” or
“i still cry myself to sleep sometimes
because i miss you so ******* much.”
sometimes i talk about things that are,
versus things that were,
and i like to decide which is better.
when the words just don’t come out right?
well that can be the worst.
because there’s a lot that i want to say,
but no way to articulate it.
i guess now is one of those times.
there’s no real words to say
how lonely i feel, with no one to talk to
when you’re not around.
how scared i am, of failing.
how happy i am, that i can almost say
we’ve been together for
“a year” instead of “five-six-seven months.”
how tired i am, without someone
or something to stimulate me.
there’s a lot that can change,
and a lot that can happen when you leave home.
it’s a chance to spread your wings,
but what do you do when
you don’t know where to fly to?
for now, i’ll walk to the library and get a coffee,
and try to finish this paper
before you get back home with me.
maybe then i won’t be so lonely
or scared or tired.
and we can crawl into bed together
like every weekend before,
and we can watch movies
and we can eat popcorn
and grow old together.
sometimes, this is all i really want to do.
and almost always,
this feels better than having something to say.