the romantics
after meeting you
will idealize love

the poets
after loving you
will romanticize loss

seasons are changing
and miracles are coming
do you understand the signs?

(or do you misinterpret them
the same way that i do
every godforsaken time?)

i never thought that the
big apple could feel so small
and i swear that sometimes
it feels like you never left at all

because, claire, even as you stand
3000 miles across this country
flipping your mic next to the big stars
partying in mansions with big money

it's our love story from so long ago
that echoes down these midnight streets
and it's your voice in your songs—i admit
i listen to them and they still drive me crazy

it's how your voice haunts me
at every single stupid house party
and how your words still remind me
during my every attempt at peace

i begged you to stay even when
you were already walking away
and when i whispered those words
you didn't even know what to say

i'm not the only one who knows that
that one song is about me
and at this point, i'm sure
even my best friends pity me

everyone knows, in fact
you probably even know
since you've moved on now, the real question is:
how the hell do you expect me to ever let you go?

before i bought these airpods
we used to share earbuds
and sit on the swings—

there was a nice and calm
between us every time we laughed
even as my phone fell and its screen cracked

you know, i hated beautiful clichés
(and i loved romanticized tragedies)
until we became one

they say it's a god-given right
a necessity, meant to be
a part of the American life

but tell me, do you know what it's like
to have to the cold steel of a barrel
pressed between your innocent eyes?

in a single heartbeat
i lost sight of our surroundings
everything fell into focus

even now, i am tangled in your web
and the only words i had found always held you
on a pedestal, at the foot of which i bled

my love for you will age
like your mother's finest wine
growing only richer with the passing of time