i have been searching
for happiness
in lipstick stained
wine glasses and hazy
smiles underneath the sheets
of strangers that roughly
resemble you.

i've learnt that we're not as sad
as we are lost.
because there's a part of me
that seems to have lodged itself in you
and now i've convinced myself
i'll never get it back.
so i go around
and fall into the beds
of strangers that smell like you,
or laugh like you,
or have your eyes,
because maybe if i look hard enough,
i'll find that piece of myself again.

but every morning is the same
filled with shame laced with fuzzy sunshine
filtering through the hastily closed blinds.
and every night is the same
filled with crippling emptiness
pouring out in fleeting poetry
and labored breathing.

i would be a liar if i said it didn't hurt
because let me tell you,
falling in love with you
was like swerving into oncoming traffic.
but i still don't regret it.
and if you were to show up on my doorstep,
I'm sure i'd rip out my heart
and hand it right back to you.

i guess i never learn.