Before you,
love became a foreign language,
one that I was once fluent in,
but forgot how to even recognize.

Before you,
my heart was a cold place,
It was scarred,
bandaged,
stitched together,
and torn again.

The word Love consisted of faint memories of happiness,
and strong memories of heartbreak,
neglect,
lies,
and pain so strong I thought I could die.

I was afraid to love again.

But then there was you.
You mended my heart right before my eyes.
You made me believe that I was beautiful,
because that's what you told me with your honest brown eyes.
You melted the rock hard ice around my heart,
and removed the chip on my shoulder.
You redefined the word Love,
filling it with warmth,
and memories of being held,
being kissed,
being important.

You opened up doors,
tore down walls,
and did it all with a smile on your face,
and love in your heart.

I remember every metaphor I used for you.
It’s beautiful how quickly I ran out.
It was just so difficult to describe
a forest at the bottom of an ocean on fire.
You were soft,
I was quiet.
I remember every park bench,
every broken sidewalk,
every open sky.
It was so whole.
I remember breathing,
and the lovely amount of effort it required.
I hope you do too.
They say writers remember the important things;
I say they are liars.
I remember you wore a purple flannel
the first time I saw you,
even though it isn’t your favorite colour.
I remember that you take your coffee black,
and your tea with plenty of honey.
I remember the way your eyes changed colour
based on the weather,
and the way you looked at the sky,
like it was endless.
You were endless.
I remember everything you taught me.

They say writers remember the important things;
I remember you.

I fell out of love with the bottom half of the sky today.
It reminded me of home.
I've grown weak carrying a half splintered heart.
It only floats on the third Wednesday of the month
and holidays that start with "yesterday."
It's all the same.
I'd rather drown.
I think home is where you don't feel so alone.
I've tried, you know.
It's all the same.
I've left two voicemails for whoever lives here now.
I think they're sorry they're so empty.
It's just been so quiet lately.
I am tired,
and so very far from home.