you are more or less like a streetlight
that is always green and never turns red,
and I am more or less like that pedestrian
perpetually waiting at the stop sign at
the opposite side of the intersection.

we are two paths that crossed but never once
knew where we were going.
not home.

you’re always going and I’m always staying.

i am stuck behind you’re green light goings and
all the cars passing by are so blurry
and it's not because they’re going too fast,
but because I am afraid that I'll see you in one of them.

your gentle wave out the window,
your soft smile shrouded by the sun glares.
there's your goodbye.
there's me standing in the rearview.

you always tell me
you can’t wait to leave this rotten place,
that you have no home.

I said we could build our own,
you only smiled and said “don’t you ever want to leave?”
don’t ask me that, you know the answer.

every driveway on earth leads to the same intersection.

you’re always going and I’m always staying.

the night you told me you were leaving you said
there was no other choice that you could see.

i was standing right in front of you.

i can't ask you to choose me.
“this is bigger than you and I.”

you’re always going and I’m always staying.

tell me back,
make me miss the things that never were,
make me wish for something that already was.
bring me back to where it all started,
to the time when we began.
tell me about the ways the horizon line bends
and that you still think it looks like the crease in your elbow when the right light hits it,
how the memories are current and we, together, are right now.
make me know i am here.
give me the only lines you can remember from the only book you’ve ever liked,
make me feel the first time you laughed with me and how the house shook
every day for a year after.
make me remember the way you touched my skin when we danced under the streetlight,
where we were far from the dock but the waves still crashed into us.
tell me about the way our love was a straight shot to the stars,
where we were bent but only slightly,
where missing you was only used in the context of “I’ll see you soon”
and not “you haven’t looked at me in months”.
tell me back,
make me believe promises are still whole
and that we are too.

let’s play truth or dare.
so we can mouth a hundred hymns at each other then remember
that we
are the only things we believe in.
i want to whisper in your ear
say how i think
that the first person made a thousand sounds and called them gods
and named them all after you.
nobody has ever been so beginning.

tell me back.
how you love the ash you find in between the pages of my favourite books,
i want to know that i’m here, cigarette burns and all.
i know we are both missing and that’s okay because nothing is whole.

have you ever wanted to become a straight line?
have you ever wanted to learn every single freckle?
name them with your teeth?
taste them under your tongue?
i have never been more silhouette, more oil on water,
more ‘please don’t leave’.

i have tasted your smoke under my tongue.
i have wanted to turn myself into a whisper,
i have breathed your name at the back of my throat.

i tell you
a girl is a safe place you can make yourself to shake in.
a body is something you can grow into,
or out of.
when the door is closed and you say that you’re home,
i hope you know what that means.
i hope you hold that weight to your chest.

i say ”i hope you come back soon.”
she says “ring me when you’re home safe.”

car engines. headlights. traffic. the way home.
not home, just somewhere i live.
we sit in the back of your mother's old mercedes,
"the ugliest tan color that ever existed" according to you.
it's a stick shift, and it skids and skips and sputters quite often.
i won't tell you, but i like when you tell me you want me to put on the seatbelt.
your head rests against the window,
and every knick in the road
makes you bump your forehead against the glass.
you're too tired to give a **** about it.
"i wish it was a better night, it's too cloudy,"
your breath visible on the window.
i can still see Vega, i don't think you can.
i nod my head and move my hand into yours.
i silently beg you to look at me.
maybe it's not a bad thing there aren't many stars out.
maybe it's the sky's way of telling us we should pay attention to each other.
maybe we hit every red light because the universe just wants to give us more time.
maybe the reason the light from the passing cars moves so fast is because it can't wait to touch your skin and
maybe the sound of car horns moves so slow because it loves the way your heart beats in the silence.
i mean ****, maybe i just want you to touch me again.
maybe it's just that i still need you and you're too tired to give a **** about it.

The sky was beautiful.
6:21 pm as the the sun started dipping below the horizon and the blue gave way to a bright pink and then a brilliant magenta, so overwhelmingly stunning that it could leave you breathless.
He sat beside her, their sides comfortable against each other, like when the sky meets the sea. Her hair was the colour of a raven as she threw her head back laughing, almost like a child. They talked about how everything looked so beautiful in that light at that moment and how they never wanted to leave.

The sky was beautiful.
12:45 am as they lie on the floor of her bedroom, dim lights, bright eyes, sweaty palms and all.
The stars came out, peaking in through the window, watching their hands make imaginary circles. They watched the moon, making plans of going there and building a house, an impossible dream they talked about in all seriousness.

The sky was beautiful.
2:56 am as it turned to black and everything was still and the only sounds were sirens and dogs singing to the night. His head was in her lap as they sat in silence, just appreciating their togetherness. She talked about her insecurities and he listened, pressing her hand occasionally as a show of comfort. He talked about his father as she watched his smile vanish and his eyes stare off into the distance and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead, as if to make him forget the horrible things his father had done.

The sky was beautiful.
6:23 am as the sun rose once again, tireless and bright, through the morning mist as the sky shifted from orange to blue. His eyes fluttered open as he took in the moment of tranquility.  He woke to find her asleep in his arms, their bodies a tangled mess of limbs. Her face was serene, calm, and makes him feel like he would never love anything as much as he does her.

The sky is beautiful.
*And so is she.

i am laying on a bed once familiar to me
i feel empty
in a strange, acquainted kind of way
i am clutching fistfuls of sheets and broken dreams
and the storm rolls in
i am under a roof but
i swear i can feel the rain
it has been like this for a while now
but i have not grown accustomed to
the hollowness in my chest
and every breath feels like
blood is pumping through my body
and it is not my own
i am laying on a bed once familiar to me
and i wonder if I will ever feel whole
again
i am whispering secrets to my walls
and my floorboards start to sweat
because every story ends with "i still
feel like this"
and i do not know
if i will ever stop

I’m measuring heartbeats and gauging miles across torn atlases and
each space between the intakes of breath while saying I miss you
feels like my lungs are freezing over or decaying or burning

I’ve been pacing around my room for so long that I think
my floorboards are starting to form fault lines
and some nights I miss you with the magnitude of an earthquake

I’m digging trenches in my chest because
my heart holds more use as a graveyard
and I’m burying your memories there

It’s midnight on the first day of autumn and I don’t know
if the thunder cracked again or it’s just my voice
begging and screaming at God to bring you back to me

except no one can hear prayers over the silence
that’s fallen over me since you left so I keep missing you
until heartbeats can keep up with distance