Today I unpacked.
I unzipped the memories
And let them ease past
The edges of the suitcase.
I picked them up
Shook them out
Cradled them close
And took a carnal sniff
Of the rough cedar scent
Of heaven
And opportunities lived to the full.

Today I glow
With my secrets
Flickering like tea candles
In a dimly lit jazz bar


Inevitably
He lingers there
In the soft sultry light
There
And not there
The ghost of a person
Swaying to the music
And staring into my soul:
Too spectacular to be real.
He is the road less traveled
Winding and twisting his way through my head
So I can’t find where the stories begin
And he ends

I try to explain
But stories are shooting stars
Staring out bright and trailing off
As I realize I live in the present
While his memories spark and fizzle like pop rocks
Punching my taste buds with a shock of sweet.

He is:
A quest for a perfect seat in the coffee shop
Holding hands in a small theater
Stolen kisses on the sidewalk
Dances without music
A skyline in sunset
And a tearful goodbye
As I got on the train.

I said I was fine.


I lied.

Desperately holding myself together
I dragged my bag
Through a maze of stations
Past the cautious scrutiny of uniforms
And onto the sterility of the plane
Thank God for windows:
Loss is staring out them.
Leaving him behind
Pretending you’re not dying
As your seatmate politely ignores your sobs

To you,
who may appreciate this
or may never remember —
I didn't know how to tell you
so I chose poetry
but don't worry
this is the last poem
I will ever write for you

To you,
who taught me a lot of things
from learning how to love
to teaching me how to live
with and without you

To you,
who started as my seatmate
and I won't lie, if you weren't endearing —
you were very annoying

To you,
who was so fun to talk to —
hours of various topics
along with hours of laughter
I wonder  
what happened?

To you,
who went from a frenemy
to a close friend that summer
and when your love for her faded,
I was there

To you,
who went from close friend
to someone more than that;
although I'm not really sure
how that even happened

To you,
who used to say "good morning, babe"
with kiss marks and little hearts
and I thought to myself everyday
I think I really like him

To you,
who used to make me listen
to songs you liked
and you probably never knew
how I know them by heart

To you,
who got mad at me  
for being very indirect while I was
jealous of you and your first ex
(but I don't think you remember)

To you,
who asked me if I ever courted you,
will you say yes?
to which I answered with,
if you changed

To you,
who will never know
how much I regret not saying yes
even up to this point

To you,
who is my first almost —
my not quite there yet
but wish you were

To you,
who texted me all of the sudden
that midnight of November
asking if I was still awake
then proceeding to say
****, I think I love you

To you,
who I laughed at when you confessed
because you were with someone else
and I don't think you still remember

To you,
who is the first boy to ever make me cry
to the point that I watch tragic movies
just so I'd have a reason to shed a tear

To you,
who danced with me during prom night
and while I was your first
you were my last
you even remembered the song
we danced to that night
(but I still don't think you remember)

To you,
who broke my heart when I found out
you were interested in someone else —
but fixed it again when you gave me  
a single rose on Valentine's Day

To you,
who broke me how many times now
and broke me even more
when I found out all this time
you were with my best friend

To you,
who probably never knew
how much it hurt to see you
flirt with my best friend  
while I stand there and pretend

To you,
who I thought loved me enough
to stay away from another friend
but I thought wrong

To you,
who touched her
with the same skin
I've been longing to touch

To you,
who I let come back
after going through months of hell
because I loved you that much
and I don't think you ever will

To you,
who I wanted to kiss  
from the very first day we did
to the day I've written
my last poem for you

To you,  
who I've written a ton of poems to
but never quite gathered the courage
to show you

To you,
whose mom is the sweetest
tell her she's lovely
you're lucky to have her

To you,
who I still love up to now
but does not necessarily mean
I want to be back together
because even if I miss you
I think now I know better.