Lately
The days are growing longer
The sun inside of me is heavy
And tired under the weight of it all
All these days without you
The sky collapses again tonight and
I am drowned in yet another puddle
Of quiet tears that soak your pillow
In a memory so bitter sweet
I feel every muscle in my body go limp
As I force myself to remember your smile
Forgetting is easy
Easier than shrinking behind the cloud of doubt that follows me wherever I go
Sinking to the floor in a pile of broken bones
As if god himself had tossed me like a bowling ball
Making no apologies for the mess I've made of everything that was once in my path
People tell me I am honorable for "holding down the fort" while you are away and don't give it a second thought
They don't know the half of it
I want to say there's nothing honorable about holding everything together with pins and needles
Trying every day to keep myself together
Keep from falling apart at the seams
You made so many holes when you left
No number of nails could hope to hold down this fort without you
Because everything feels empty when you're gone
And you've been gone for so long
I don't even know what it feels like
to be whole anymore

I lie awake wondering if
on your restless nights
You're lying there
Thinking of me too
I haven't cried in weeks
I haven't heard from you in months
And tonight
I'm lying here
Imagining all the places on my body that you've touched
How my own fingertips do not feel like yours
Despite my best efforts
I cannot fool myself into thinking
For even one tired moment
That you are here with me again
Why tonight of all nights
Am I lying here crying?
I have to imagine of course
That this all comes back to you
That surely you're somewhere
On the other side of the world
Thinking of me so strongly that I felt it
All the way back here
And so to that I say
I feel you
You are here with me
You are always here with me
This love we share
Will never leave

When you haven't seen someone in months
The places your subconscious wanders off to change
Your dreams are different
Your strongest desires suddenly seem strange to other people
who do not understand
These days
I dream of touching the back of your neck
Feeling the softness of your hair
The warmth of your skin
With each of my ten fingers
It's a feeling I think about a lot
The back of your neck
Wrapping my arms around your shoulders
Forgetting how much taller you are than me
Remembering instantly
Muscle memory
I write about that a lot too
Because it's real
Not many people dream of flinging their arms around someone's neck
In an embrace so close
A moment so detailed
That they wake up staring at their hands
Wondering why they are empty
And not on your skin
Waking up feeling like I'd been robbed blind
Because I swore I just had you again
Only I never did
This is the only place I can see you now
Stare into your eyes that echo into infinity
Feel the warmth radiating off of your skin
And touch the back of your neck
With my hands

It's been so many months since I've seen you
So many months
Of silence
Of waiting
Praying, hoping, wondering
More waiting
So many months have separated us
That now when I look back at our pictures
I feel like a stranger
Looking back on memories I can barely remember
The pictures feel like dreams
From a foggy afternoon nap
I don't recognize the closeness
I can't recall the intimacy
It all feels so far away
So far gone
That when I say I'm not even sad anymore
I mean it
I miss you of course
I miss being happy, really happy
But I'm not sad anymore
It isn't a new pain
It's hardly even a pain at all
And that worries me because missing you felt so routine
It was the only way I felt close to you
Missing you
Was a part of me
The sadness was my rawest form of intimacy
The closeness of concentration at night
Trying to remember your arms wrapped around me like anchors
All the times I begged you to stay
All the times I knew you couldn't
It's been so many, many months
And still, I wait

It's been one hundred and twenty days since you left
But today
I smelled you
Opened up one of your dresser drawers
And smiled at its contents
Realizing
It must have been months since I'd opened this drawer
I pulled out a single blue t-shirt
You left behind
The only one
Out of the dozen others that you own
And stuffed into your seabag
You left this one behind
I held it up and remembered the countless nights I'd spent folding these shirts
Over and over again
I held it up and imagined you wearing it
And of course I had to,
I held it up to my face, closed my eyes, and then something incredible happened
I smelled you
You, not your shampoo or shower gel, not your deodorant or your cologne, not your laundry detergent, not even the boat smell that plagues half your wardrobe
I just smelled you
Something I haven't smelled in one hundred and twenty days
A scent I didn't forget,
But rather a memory I forgot that I remembered
Instantly it brings me back
Back to all the times I hugged you as you wore this very shirt (or the one hundred variations of it)
Back to all the nights I crawled into bed next to you and smelled this
Smelled you
Back to never thinking twice about this smell
Because it was normal, routine
It was you
Which means it was also me
It was nothing to drop to my knees and cry over
Nothing to thank god for
But that was one hundred and twenty days ago
And today
This shirt means everything to me

It is June 16
And I am awakened
At 4:30 in the morning
By a phone call
The first time I have heard your voice
In months
At first it feels like a dream
And maybe it is
But in this dream
When I open my eyes
I can still hear your voice
I can still hear your laugh
I am happier than I have been
In months

It is June 17
And I am already anticipating
The day you will leave again
Sadness rearing it's ugly head
Remember me? It said
The kitchen is a mess
And I can't reach the sink
The trash hasn't been taken out
In weeks
Clothes litter our apartment floor
But it's been months since I've spoken to you
So I ignore them some more

It's June 19
And you're leaving tomorrow
It's all I can think about
I spend half the day at work
And most of the day thinking of you
Escaping outside to call you
On my lunch break
Rushing home
To plug in my phone
And Skype you until we both fall asleep
I'm not ready to say goodbye

It's June 20
And today's the last day
I wake up to one last phone call
And soak up every second of your voice
Your laugh
Your love
The milk expired
There's jelly and syrup on the kitchen floor
And I have no food to eat for dinner
Everything
Is still a mess
Today's the day we say goodbye
We talk and we wait
And I stare at the clock
Fighting back tears
"I love you," you say
And for a moment
Everything's okay
But today's still the day
And I know what comes next
The dreaded goodbye
The tears I can't stop
You telling me to be strong
Me telling you to be safe
Closing my eyes
I refuse to be the one
To let you go

It's June 21
And my heart is hurting
My mind is wandering
And everything feels heavy
The waiting begins again
And I force feed myself
Memories of your voice
So as not to forget
yet again
I'm walking outside
And I'm sorry if i can't meet your eyes today
As i pass by
It all just hurts too bad
And i don't want you to see
this pathetic look on my face
and I don't want to look at you
And see his face
Where yours should be
So I'm looking at my feet
Imagining the day
I come running back to you
Leaping into your arms
And forgetting every bit of this pain

But that day is months away
And today
It is June 21

What if
I had fallen to my knees
On the cold parking lot concrete
Tears washing over my cheeks
And cries no one should ever have to hear
Bellowing out from beneath my ribs
Screaming at the sky
Looking up at your face
Forcing you
(and everyone else)
To see me in this godforsaken state
Of absolute chaos
Heartbreak
In it's rawest form
What if I had begged you to stay?
What if I'd told you I can't do this without you?
What if I'd told you how much I needed you
What if I did anything other than fighting back the tears
Maybe for myself, maybe for you,
Mostly for the crowd of people gathering
Saying their goodbyes
Anxiously looking around to bear witness to everyone else's reactions
And I didn't want to be that girl
That girl who falls to the ground
Kicking and screaming and crying and begging
But what if I was?
What if I was any girl other than the one I pretended to be that day
The one that held her tongue and kept her mouth shut because she knew the second she opened it to speak she would sob
The one that wrapped her arms around you for the last time,
and the one that let go
The one that couldn't bear to watch you walk away
So she kissed you goodbye
Got back in the car
And drove home
What if i wasn't that girl who didnt allow herself to completely fall apart until she was alone in the privacy of her own home?
What if instead I'd made a scene,
Doing what everything inside me so desperately wanted to
Grabbing hold of your hand and refusing to let go
Losing the facade of confidence
The charade of strength
But I'm not that girl
And I never will be
So each and every time you leave
I kiss you goodbye
I unclench my fists and retract my anchors
I untether my heart from it's human home
And I put on a brave face
Maybe for myself, maybe for you,
Or maybe
For that girl.

I remember the day we said goodbye
I think about it all the time
Spending those last two hours with you
Staring at the clock
As if I could will the minutes not to pass
As if each second didn't bring the inevitable that much closer
I felt all the words I didn't know how to say sinking to my stomach
All the times I thought about begging you not to go
All the wars I knew I would lose
I remember staring at you for too long because I knew eventually I would forget the details of your face
The dimples on your cheeks, the smile that filled your entire face, the eyes that made me weak and the laugh that brought me to my knees
I knew I would soon forget these things
Not by choice
Not like one day you wake up and just can't remember anymore
It's much more cruel than that
It's every morning you wake up and feel a little bit farther away
The memory of you feels even farther out of reach
And you try,
You try like you wouldn't believe
I try to force feed myself the memories from that day
The cold winter wind making our noses numb,
Our fingers intertwining,
Your hand anchoring itself to my waist
But that was months ago
And some days I don't know how we got here
Some days you feel so ******* far away
Some days I don't leave our bed because everything hurts too bad
But every day
I love you more than the last
And I miss you more than most

Looking back I don't know how I even fell asleep that night
Somehow managing to steal a few hours of blissful unconsciousness
I know I fought it at first
Partly because it's pretty impossible to sleep while you're crying uncontrollably
But also because when I finally calmed myself down
(mostly)
I didn't want to waste our final hours together sleeping
All I wanted to do was lay there and listen to your heartbeat so many times I could snap my fingers four months from now and recall the sound
Or I wanted to feel your skin so deeply that on any given night I could lay in bed, close my eyes, and still feel you on my finger tips
But of course this isn't how memory works
No matter how many times I wish it was
No matter how many times I try
At the end of the night I'm always left laying here alone
With only my thoughts to keep me company
Clutching your pillow to my chest, no heartbeat to be found
Running my fingers along our sheets, nothing feels like your skin, nothing even comes close
I don't know how I managed to fall asleep that night
I don't know how I managed to let you go

I was rummaging through our hall closet
Looking for my suitcase
When I saw your old winter coat had fallen to the floor
I quickly picked it up
To rehome it to its rightful hanger
When I noticed your work jacket hanging idle and still
Your name tape peeking back at me
My heart pulling at my chest
And before I could even stop myself my hands were tugging on its sleeves
My fingers feeling the all too familiar texture of that waterproof fabric
That touched my skin in our many embraces just months before
Before I could stop myself I was pulling it out of the closet
Staring at this empty jacket
Imagining your body filling it
Before I could stop myself I was burying my face in its folds
Searching for your scent
The tears were instantaneous
And before I could stop myself
I fell to the floor
Clutching this jacket as if it were anything other than a collection of buttons and threads
I couldn't stop smelling it and I didn't want to
These things are all I have left of you
And although it changes nothing I throw the hanger to the floor and slide into the sleeves,
Pulling this jacket over me
Closing my eyes to imagine for a moment that you aren't even gone at all

Sometimes I see you in glimpses
Snapshot moments with a foggy focus
A man opening the door to our apartment building for his wife
A boy wrapping his arm around his girlfriend as they walk across a parking lot
Staring for too long,
Watching how his fingers fall through her hair
Their smiles, their laughter,
Their normal Tuesday afternoon
They do not even know I am watching
They do not even know
I exist
But today
Their lives played a vital role in our story
These candid moments bring me hope
And I feel the memory of you coming to life in my stomach
Spreading like warmth throughout my body
Until a smile forms on my lips
Oh, how I'm missing you more than ever
And this is the closest I will come
To feeling your love
For months

I used to hate the word soon
I despised it
In the beginning it brought me comfort
It sounded promising
Calming enough to still even the most destructive of wars I waged against myself
Soon
I wish I'd counted the number of times you spoke this word to me
The first word that entered your mind when you had no idea what to say
When you were confronted with questions that weighed more than the burden of guilt that lied on your shoulders
Broad enough to carry the world
Yet you crumbled into a puddle of uncertainty at the inflection of my voice
That warranted immediate answer
Questions that mattered
Questions that would define things with a higher magnitude than you wished existed
Questions that would determine the prolongation of my heartbreak
Soon
At first it satiated me
Lifted my heart a little higher
And warmed the blood in my veins
With tingling fingers
I threaded my hand into yours
"Okay" I would say
And lay a kiss upon your cheek
Soon
The days turned to weeks
And when the weeks turned to months
I began to grow angry
Impatient
"Soon" you would say,
And my questions changed to those charged with rage and fury
"What the **** does that mean?"
Soon
There were no answers
Futile attempts made to cure this breaking heart
You knew it all along and you didn't care,
Not in the beginning, not now, not once
I was nothing more to you
Than an empty promise
A warm bed to crawl into when you
Grew tired of your own icicle sheets
Careful hands on a body that refused to accept that this was over
Hands that would have spent a lifetime molding us back together
The anger turned to sadness of course,
It always does
Inconsolable
My throat burned at the taste of that word
Soon
I never let anyone use that word
As a form of measurement again
I became precise in my actions
And clear with my intentions
And I accepted nothing less from anyone else who dared enter my life
The word was not spoken,
It was not thought of,
Nor written
I demanded certainty from everyone around me
And there were no pardons granted, no excuses accepted, no exceptions great enough worthy of bending the rules
And these were the rules after all
For years, this was how I lived my life
Until I met you
You, who made time stand still
You, who made my heart forget what we went through
The tears we endured, the innocence we lost, the walls we built along the way
You, who held wary hands until they did not shake
Who spent night after night ensuring that we went to bed feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling valued
Who transformed feeling vulnerable into beautiful
You, who strengthened the walls of my castle
You, who built the mote
Hung the drawbridge
And walked into my kingdom with open arms
Always standing at the ready for battle
And after years of hardening,
After heartbreak and skepticism
And everything in between
The first time you spoke the word
Soon
To me
My fists did not clench,
My jaw did not lock,
My memory did not revert back to him
And his lack of everything a man should be
But instead my eyes grew lighter,
My heart lifted higher,
And everything in me agreed that you are exactly who we have been looking for
Soon
Now
This word serves as a token of good faith
A promise that eventually, we will be where we want to be
Each time you say it I close my eyes and see the day you come back home to me
Each time I know that you will
Smiling with the knowledge that we've made it once again
Carrying the weight of that word in our hands
Until we are face to face once more
Locking our fingers, threading the memories, forgetting how heavy that goodbye felt all those months ago
Knowing now that all that matters
Is the fact that soon finally came
And today is the best day of our lives
So for now we will store this word away
This piece of us that comes into play all too often
For now you are here with me
And we have everything we will ever need

Soon

(thank you
from my heart & me)

I miss the way you'd grind your teeth
in your sleep
driving me to the near brink of insanity
every night
as you crushed all your words into
a fine powder of white noise
and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness
of our black hole bedroom
that exists in our own small infinity
of the universe
I'd find myself staring at you
marveling at your stillness
wondering
where your mind
might have drifted off to
I'd press my body against yours
in a futile attempt to feel every inch of your skin
wanting so desperately to envelope myself in the warmth of your slumber
zipping our fingers together under the ocean of covers
anchoring your body to mine

And they don't know what it is to kiss the better half of you goodbye far more often than one should ever have to
That heartache
These empty hands
Throbbing temples and tears that surprise you at midnight when you allow yourself one moment to miss him
To really miss him
To smell his clothes, to lay your head on his pillow, to crawl into the memory of him.
To relive your last moments together
They don't know what this is
And some days, neither do you.
What are we doing? And what do you say to someone who you haven't spoken to in weeks? Months?
There are no words for this type of longing
No string of sentences that make up for months of silence
No amount of time could hope to make up for all the moments missed
All the memories stored for tabled conversations, forgotten
They don't know what it is to feel this pain
How you used to hate public places and now, for some unexplainable reason, you find yourself drawn to them
Constantly searching for him
Any face could be his if you miss him hard enough
The feeling in your gut when you're driving and your muscle memory directs your right hand over to the passenger seat
Grasping for something that is not there
And what was it, love? His hand?
Your fingers fell through the air and landed on cheap polyester instead
The feeling pulls at your heart, is now our moment to miss him?
the tears ready at the flood gates, but no, love, now is not your moment.
Because there are things to be done and places to go. There are sights to be seen and people to be spoken to. There is sunshine to be felt, and rain too. There will be rain. Love, some days, there will be so ******* much rain.
They do not know this pain.
But they could not possibly imagine the flowers that bloom in your chest; the summer air that fills your lungs; the culmination of every last one of their best days all made into one; the feeling of knowing, of being absolutely certain that every last bit of this pain is worth it all.
Because, love... there are brighter days ahead.

So here we are at last,
the end of another tired day
sleep lingers heavily atop my eyelids
as I crawl into our bed
snuggling up next to thoughts
of you

wrapping myself up
in the idea of your arms
closing my eyes
awaiting the routine kiss
on the cheek
and your feet
on my feet

but I am here with only thoughts
and we haven't spoken in weeks

And maybe it hasn't hit me yet
but part of me feels like this
is all just a dream
a bad joke,
a cosmic punch line in the waiting
I'll go home tonight
and lay down in our bed
if I can even convince myself
to first leave the couch
where we last kissed
and I will pass the pile of clothes
on the floor of your side of
the bed
and it will feel like someone stole every last breath in my lungs
but I will get it together and regroup
crawling into my side of the bed
feeling tears well up in my eyes as I catch your scent lingering on the pillow
but I will quickly revert my attention to the clothes on the floor
taking comfort in their presence
as if they are saying "im coming right back for these
to put them away"
as if this morning
when you left
was any other morning
and I will wonder
how long I can leave them lying there
before the sight of them brings me to tears
so maybe it hasn't hit me yet
that so many months now stand between us
that the seasons will change
I will turn another year older
the days will get hard
the nights will be long
and you will be gone
and I know there will be days
where I fall to my knees
drowning in tears
and anxiety
and the weight of it all
and all I will want
is to call you
and I know that this is no longer a luxury
we will be given
so maybe it hasn't hit me yet
but god
help me when it does

I am not scared of the dark anymore.
I no longer have the need to check every closet and corner of our home before I feel safe and certain that no one else is here.
Sometimes I even leave and don't bother to lock the door behind me.
And maybe I'm becoming careless. Or maybe my fears have simply shapeshifted into nameless beings; feelings rather than things.
I am afraid of losing you. I am no longer afraid of the dark, but now when the phone rings, before I even have time to think, I am worrying that it is the call. The call saying that something terrible has happened to you. The apologies. Strangers saying your name and me falling to my knees.
I am no longer compulsive about investigating the possibility of an intruder in our home, rather now I am compulsive about investigating all the possibilities in which you never make it back home to me. The thoughts fall through the cracks in my mind like quicksand and I am left standing with a blank look in my eyes. I am obsessive over every detail, I am consumed with every second of time we have left together, it's all I can think about.
And I no longer lock our front door. Maybe I am careless, or maybe I am leaving it open for the possibility that at any given moment, you might come walking through it, as nonchalantly as businessmen do at 5pm on a Tuesday. Regular, normal, routine.

It's been three months since I moved here and you've been here for two of them and it's got me thinking about how in a world without you minutes feel like hours and hours feel like days, and don't even get me started on the days, our time together feels like quicksand running through my hands. It's a mess all over our spotless kitchen floor. The mop finds its way into the grasp of my fingers every day that you are gone, which is often, because honestly I just need something to hold. Something to occupy the time that we should be spending laid up on the couch hours deep into a new Netflix series tossing off the blankets we wrapped oursevles up in because our bodies have generated so much heat from being so close to each other for so long. Most nights I find myself wrapping up the idea of you into a neat little box that I carry around with me in my chest. Occasionally someone knocks to see how you are doing, how we are doing, and I tell them the same things I tell you. I miss you. And they're confused, because we live together, and don't I know that I should have stopped having to miss you months ago? Only I haven't stopped and I never will. Closing the distance between our states will never compare to closing the distance between me crawling into bed hours after you've fallen asleep, and you crawling out before the dawn breaks, kissing my head goodbye as I sleep. These are our interactions and they do not understand. Our bed is warm but my hands are cold. You kiss my knuckles in your sleep and I take a deep breath, hoping to remember the way you smell; the warmth of your skin; the sounds from your throat as I kiss your cheek; this moment. Every night I spend next to you I thank whoever is listening for giving us this simple pleasure- knowing you are safe, you are here, you are mine. I ask for more time but somehow we always come up empty handed. I knew we would have forever since the moment I met you, and in the vows I've been piecing together since the day we fell in love, I say to you this: falling asleep next to you is one thing I will never take for granted, the days I spend without you are nothing compared to those we spend together, and together... together, we have everything we will ever need.

When you are here
The quiet feels so soothing
Peaceful
The sounds of a long day filled with laughter, love and storytelling are finally coming to an end
Where we lay our heads down on a bed that feels like the finish line from the race
Of the best day of my life
Tranquil
And when you are gone
The quiet feels so heavy
Overwhelming with thoughts that race through my mind like Olympic sprinters
Chasing down the next conversation I get with you
Filling the silent air with all the things I wish I could tell you now, in this moment
The bed feels different now, each night I lay down in this marathon of missing you
Wishing I could sit with you in silence
Smiling in the darkness as the conversation holds us
The only words we say, I love you, I love you, I love you

I moved into our new apartment building
and for two weeks
every time I heard someone in the hallway outside our front door
I imagined it was you
coming home to me

for two weeks
I had every light in our place on
all the time
to let myself pretend
this home was occupied
and wished
I had someone
to argue over
the electric bill
with

for two weeks
I went to the beach
and sat alone
stared out into the ocean
for hours
until the sun burned my skin
and the sand found it's way
into my eyes
here
I allowed myself
to think for a moment
that you are only miles
away from me
just out of my reach
but safe
nonetheless

for two weeks
I looked out the bedroom window
and the kitchen window
and the living room window
all the windows I could find
searching for your car
your face
you

in two weeks we came so close
to seeing each other
and yet
we're still so far apart

for two weeks I checked my phone
two hundred times a day
I sent you texts
I knew you would not answer
or receive
and called to tell your voicemail
goodnight

for two weeks I fought back tears
in grocery stores
as I bought entirely too much food
for just one person
but I filled up the cart anyway
because what if you come home?
the milk went sour
and the bread ran dry
and I took out four bags of trash
by myself

in two weeks
I transformed a house into a home
without you
I hung decorations you have never seen
in a place you have never been
I bought furniture
without asking your opinion
on the tan sofa
or the gray one
I had to make these decisions
without you
I put together our dinner table
and ate at it alone
I found
this home feels one hundred times
more empty
with all these furnishings
that are meant to accommodate
several people
and yet
here I am
alone

for two weeks
for two months
I've waited
and god
please let it be over soon

It's been 59 days since I've seen you and I'm sitting here thinking about how we say the words "I can't" so casually. So endearingly. I can't wait to see you again. But what is promising about that? Why do we always find those words shoving out of our mouths, flying off of our finger tips. I can't wait. But we can wait, and we will wait, and we do. We always do. Without question, we wait and we wait and we wait, without promise of when it will be that we'll see each other again. Without certainty, without doubt, we wait. And this has been and always will be the case when it comes to you. So no, I can't wait to see you again, yes.
But I will.

I guess I don't know why coming here brings me peace. The obvious answer would be, it's the beach, what isn't peaceful about that? But it isn't the calming slosh of the shoreline or the gentle breeze through my hair or the warm sand between my toes. It isn't even my new tan I'm sporting from coming here for hours upon hours nearly every day.
It's the thought. The possibility. I look out over the waves onto the horizon of the endless sea of blue. And I think of you. Part of me finds it unbelievably frustrating that I have absolutely no idea where you are in this world, but when I'm here, I am free to imagine that you're here, too, just outside of my reach.
And it's okay to be lonely here. There are plenty of people here by themselves. Reading a book, taking a nap, or simply doing nothing. That's the thing; no one looks at you strangely when you show up to the beach in a military town toting your bookbag and your flip flops in hand. Everyone is missing someone here.
And it was here that I decided I wanted a sailboat. Someday. With you. Someday when we would be able to use it. Both of us. Whenever we wanted. No sea schedule or training or deployment stopping us from waking up one morning and deciding that today, we're sailing away from here for a little while.
But that day is many, many days away, and today, I'm simply sitting at the beach, alone.

"What's it like?"*
Someone asks you on the bus, in line at the supermarket, or over a Sunday cup of tea.
It's a funny feeling; your stomach shifting uneasily and the smile forming on your face simultaneously.
You've done it again. Your lips couldn't help but to frame his name in a conversation that had nothing to do with him. And yet, you still found a way to think of him and mumble his name through a grin and a heavy heart.
So, what's it like?
They mean being away from the one you love, but all you can comprehend is what it is like to love him. And to love him, some days, is your only saving grace. Your safe spot. And yet, at the same time, your Achilles heel. Those parts of your heart are tender with the lonely nights, the constant worry, and the million and one what if's. The fact that you watch a How to Make the Perfect Omelette video at midnight while laying in bed alone, because he is gone, and all you can do to pass the time is plan things for when he comes home. It's a culmination of every night you thought would be the last night without him. It's waking up the next morning to an empty, quiet home, and filling up the air with awful noises that escape from the deepest parts of sadness. It's waking up in a panic saying his name in the middle of the night because you were dreaming of him once again. It's how, anymore, dreams are the only way you see or hear from him.
But love? It's also waking up six hours early the day he comes home, because you're too excited to possibly sleep. It's spending entirely too much time doing your hair and makeup that morning, when you know all he cares about is having you in his arms again. It's seeing his car pull up. It's the butterflies you get and the smile you couldn't stop if you tried. It's running up to him after months of imagining this moment and it being so much more perfect than you ever could have thought. It's feeling him wrap you up in his embrace and finally, finally feeling whole again. It's the second, or the third, or the hundredth "first" kiss.
It's everything.

you came and you went
just like that
you were here
and then you weren't
my calendar reminds me
that we spent 18 days together
but every bone in my body swears
it felt more like 18 hours

i remember seeing your face
across that enormous room
for the first time in months
and everything inside me
set itself on fire
there's really no words to explain
the way that feels
no way that makes sense to someone
who hasn't experienced it themselves

but let me try

it was a little like breathing
for the first time
in a very long time
waking up from a nightmare
and gasping for breath
the comforting realization
that it was only just a dream
it was kind of like that

it was a little like holding your breath
underwater
and finally coming up for fresh air
filling your lungs with sunshine and summer
and being happy
it's simple
it was kind of like that

you think you'll cry but you don't
there is no time for tears
you spent months crying them and
there's simply no place for them any longer
there is only room
for happiness

you'll wake up the next morning
if you ever even fall asleep
and he will startle you
because for months you slept alone
and this body feels unfamiliar and strange
but you love it
and it is home

you will try to find the right words
just as i am now
to tell people about it
how amazing it is
was
and you will fail
you will fail every time
but you try anyway

so yes,
it was a little like that
and a whole lot
like nothing
i have ever experienced
before.

looking back on the distance
all the time spent apart and alone
and worrying
and wondering
feeling as though time
was taking its sweet time
and oh, how it was
i remember i would sit in bed at night
and stare at pictures of you until
my eyes were wet with tears
i realized i couldn't remember your face
the details
i thought of you and i couldn't see it
and the pictures never do you justice
i remember waking up each morning
to the crushing defeat
of another long day without you
ahead of me
crawling back into bed at night
thinking,
my god, this is exhausting,
this marathon of missing you.
and oh, how it was
i remember feeling like the end
was nowhere in sight
and this distance would **** me

and now
the only thing that separates us
is a handful of days
and a layover in charlotte
hours away from you
i'm looking back at the day we said goodbye
and smiling
for once
because we are so incredibly close
to the best hello
these airport walls
have ever seen

May
the first day
of a new month
how
appropriate

May
you used to be my favorite month
the weather turns warm
and the rain subsides
my birthday
graduations
and just a general sense
that things
are getting
better

May
today it is pouring down rain
literally
and metaphorically
I cried for the first time last night
in months
a flood of emotions
that have failed
to remain
repressed

May
although if you asked
I would swear to you
that I am still stuck
in January
how have 5 months passed already
where has the time gone
and when will the rest of it go
when

May
nothing good will come of you
this year

The day is drawing near
and every year it comes around
every year
the flashbacks saturate every
dark corner of my mind
I've written
and written
and written
about that night so many times
that I can't stand to anymore
you know what happened in that room
and so do I
but now there's someone new
someone who looks at me
and doesn't see your hand prints
on my skin
who doesn't know
that years later
I still carry the weight of that night
on my chest
it sits there while I sleep
counting my breaths
permeating my dreams
enveloping every empty thought
with an unwelcomed thought
of you
I've got so many skeletons
and I would love to say
that they're all buried beneath the dirt
of time
but they aren't
sometimes
they slip out from the closet
and sit right beside me
sometimes
they hold my hand
and sometimes
like today
they crawl inside my skin
and make themselves
at home

It's a strange way to live
watching what feels like everyone
around me be in love
and have their lover
at arms length

I couldn't tell you where mine is right now

I come home and watch my parents
hardly say two words to each other
and think
what I wouldn't give to be able to say
just two words to you
right now

It surely is strange
to feel myself forgetting
your face
your smile
your voice

I force feed myself memories of
the phone calls,
the car rides,
the nights we sat in the bathtub and talked
about anything
the nights we drank ourselves into
oblivion

I missed you so much today that
I called your phone
just to give myself that false hope
for the ten seconds it rang
that you may actually pick up
you didn't pick up

It's been too long
and the cloud of uncertainty hanging over my head
does not allow me to estimate
when it will be
that I am able to do any of these things
again

I'm not used to the silence
I don't know that I'll ever get used to that
Sometimes I curse this life for
being the way it is
I am envious of those
whose husbands are only
a work day away
When they've had a horrible day
and can dial his number and talk to him
until they feel better
There are times we go weeks without
knowing if the other is even
alive
those are the bad days
On good days
I get an email from you
and tears well up in my eyes
as I read it
in your voice
and oh, how I miss your voice
I swallow my sadness and put on
a brave face
and tell you that everything
back home is great
I'm doing okay, really
but what I want to say
is that I miss you so much it hurts
and I can't ******* breathe
this distance is too much right now
and I'd beg you to come home
until I am blue in the face
I count the number of times
I get through work without crying
as successes
Each day I am able to make it to my bed at night
or through my front door
or to my car
or even
to the public restroom
before losing it
is a win
But I say none of these things because
they won't do any good
you're still gone for however long and
I am still a mess
but I'm your mess
and when the ocean between us
is drowning me
I will remember that.

We were drinking
and by now I should know
that Jack and Coke
do not mix well with me
you start talking about her
again
I start talking about him
and it's weird but it isn't
because anything feels natural
with you
"I just wish she wasn't my first,"
you'd said
I nod because I know what it is
to feel like that
I tell you about the time
I went to his house
crying like a fool
ending each subsequent sentence with
"I was so stupid"
and I was
I turn to you and say,
"Once you love someone like that,
you never love anyone else like that again."
You nod
and it's quiet for a little while
Thinking back on that conversation now
I meant what I said
I do not love you like I loved him
just as you don't love me
like you loved her
and that's hard to swallow until
you realize
that I love you so much more
than I have ever loved anyone
or anything
so much more
than I even thought
was possible
So no
I don't love you like that
I love you more
than I can comprehend.

and today is one of
those days
where you wake up
to reality snuffing out
the flame of hope
and optimism
you've spent weeks
trying to light

today I am bombarded
with the thought of you
leaving
with the weight of
92 days
hanging over my head
like a rain cloud
today
I am
tired

and I've found that even when
I'm with you
I'm not really with you
because I am always too busy
thinking about you leaving
to enjoy what little time
we get to share together
and I'm sorry for that

I don't know how to apologize
for my feelings
in a way that doesn't ask for
you to say
"you don't need to do that,"
because believe me
I do

I am sorry
that despite my best efforts
I will not be able to be strong
all of the time
or perhaps even
a majority of the time

I am sorry
that I will never get used to
saying goodbye to you
that I can promise you
leaving will never get
any easier

I told you
this would be hard
and I meant that
but I also told you
that there is no one else
in this world
that I would rather do this with
than you
and I meant that
and that is what makes this
so
easy

and I mean that.

Your eyes. I think it started with your eyes. It was unexpected, like most things in this life are, but it was definite. That moment. The back of a warm car on a cold winter day. Your head resting sleepily in my lap and the tired January sun peeking through the fog of afternoon clouds, illuminating that small corner of our universe. My fingers ran through your hair like muscle memory as if I'd been doing that with you every day for years. You tilt your head up to look at me and that's when it was. That's when it happened. I've never fallen in love with someone's eyes before. Having met you makes me wonder if I've ever really fallen in love with anyone else at all. And I haven't written in months, because part of you still feels like a dream. A random phone call waking me up from a nap, an email when we haven't spoken in weeks, a nine hour car ride to be in your arms again. So many things separate us but none of these things matter in the grand scheme of me loving you relentlessly. I've said it before and I will say it again, again and again; it's you. Have you ever loved someone more than you know how to? I swear, it started with your eyes.

It's back
the all too familiar ache
that demands
attention
and necessitates
acknowledgement
yet again
I am reminded
of you

I lied.
A long, long time ago you asked me what my favorite color was. When things were new and clean and easy. Still dancing around in the getting to know you stages. Some days I swear, years later, I am still just getting to know you. But that's besides the point. The point is I lied. You asked me what my favorite color was and I said red. Red is okay, I guess, but red? Plain red, Crayola red, the tin lunchbox your mother bought you for your first day of school red, isn't me.
I always liked blue. Blue anything. Ocean blue, not a cloud in the sky blue, so many clouds in the sky it's almost actually gray blue, the eye color I always wanted blue, favorite shirt blue, toilet bowl cleaner blue, internalized depression blue, art museum walls blue. Blue. I liked blue.
But here I am, saying to you without hesitation that my favorite color is red. And you say that yours is green. You're going on about how our favorite colors are Christmas colors and I am wondering when it was that I decided I needed to be someone other than myself around you.
Many years later, too many years, I am driving down Main Street with a parade of stop lights ahead of me. The colors are doing that thing when my eyes blur them out of focus. Red, green, green, red, red, green. To stop or to go. Part of me is thinking how fascinating it is that we have programmed our brains to subconsciously associate colors with actions and the bigger part of me is thinking about you. And somehow I find this is always the case with everything. As many times as we are next to each other in my line of vision we can never be together. I am talking about the stop lights but I am thinking about us. Green and red can never be on the same stop light at the same time. As soon as I leave, you show up. And it's got me thinking about how we were never really on the same page. How it's taken me this long to realize that no matter how badly either of us may have wanted it, we can never exist together.

Isn't it something? How everything lines up just so. Their car and your car. You never stop to think how miraculous an eight-sided piece of red metal is until it could have turned back the hands of time. We would have stopped. They would have gone straight. no police cars, no ambulances, no fire trucks. No crying mothers and no worried lovers. No blood. No bruises. No nothing. And somehow, this reminds you of him. Somehow, years later, everything still reminds you of him. Loose change or a rainy day or a slow song. The collision of everything. So what. So you are sitting on the side of an unfamiliar country road six feet deep in a cornfield. The windshield is shattered. You don't remember the air bags going off, but they did. Everyone says there are signs. As many sleepless nights you spent trying to go back and find them you always come away empty handed. The officers are asking, at what point did you know you were going to hit their car? you feel your heart tugging at your chest, reminding you of the night you asked him when it was that he fell out of love with you. The officer doesn't understand. Nobody understands. All anyone wants is an answer. As if it's ever that simple. Back to this stop sign. How a handful of seconds could have prevented everything. How a little more love could have saved us. How I loved you until there was nothing left but bones and skin and how it still wasn't enough. How I stretched myself thin and how I still couldn't reach you. I cannot remember the moment of impact. I do not know why you stopped loving me. all I know, is that it happened.

south carolina and ohio and the blurred lines of love and something else. something worse. dangerous. all this talk of coming home. you imagine she means your heart instead of your house. she is held captive by the bounds of her past. all romance and regret. pink wine never tasted good anyway. then again nothing tastes quite like her smile. you could get drunk on her drink of choice every single night and still wake up each morning with a hangover from hell and an empty heart and aching hands. you have got to stop punching those walls. what is it with you. you and hurting things that only exist to protect you. tell us about that night you got so drunk you swore you were speaking to god. tell us how he listened. how you spoke about her candy eyes and her gum drop lips and golden skin. to look at her was to gaze upon the heavens. he understands. you analogize love making to walking into a church and getting to know each and every pew by name. he takes no offense to this. you ask him if south carolina is better for having her in its bounds. you can't quite explain it but ohio feels a lot less like home now that she's gone. you feel like a drifter. she says there are white sand beaches and sunsets you can't even imagine and entire neighborhoods swallowed up by trees. you want to tell her this broken heart of yours is beginning to ache again. as if it ever stopped. you and god share a laugh at this one. you think no one is listening but you are wrong. all this talk of being in love. she says you are in love with the idea of love but she is wrong and she knows it. so what. the million dollar question. what does it all mean and why. god, why. why her, why this, why here, why now, why. but he only shakes his head. in this he says that the answers are nestled in all the moments you mumble his name. when she is moaning yours, when you are scared, when you are happy, when you are relieved. how every moment with her feels like a culmination of each of these. you understand. you do.

one day everything falls apart. your hands and her promises and you heart. loving her turns into not sleeping. ever. that one day six months later when you finally saw her again and choking on not saying I love you before she left because you can't stand the thought of her not saying it back. the possibility. this ache. someone asks you what happened between the two of you and you say that even the continents came apart. they don't get it. you don't either. something breaks inside of you every time the wind blows and you smell her perfume. something harder than glass. they call this something hope. she knows where you live and she knows you never leave but she isn't coming back. make no mistake. there will be no surprise visits. no knock on your door at five a.m, no tear streaked hello's and no heartfelt I missed you's. no happy ending. no ending at all. just a belly full of whiskey and the last time she told you she loved you. her words feel like plagiarism in your ear. you wonder how her mother would feel about this. you wonder if her mother saw this coming a mile away. you wonder if her mother will always be right. you take another drink and wonder how this glass would sound as it breaks against your wall. the moment it leaves your hand you regret it. what a mess. all liquor and love sick and four a.m. the rorschach stains on this carpet from back when you were practicing for ava or evelyn or aiden. she picked the names. all the carpet cleaner in the world won't erase the memory. you wouldn't try even if it would. the empty chair theory doesn't soothe this broken heart of yours. nothing does. you pull another glass from the cupboard and see her lipstick stain on the edge. you imagine being small enough to jump from the top and landing hard enough to **** yourself but softly enough to not leave a stain. they would look at you and say, "I think this one was an accident." and they are wrong.

it's really something
how quickly things can change
how one poem ago
you were back
in my bed
in my heart
how one poem ago
you accidentally called me honey
in the middle
of a flirtatious conversation
and every time after that
was on purpose
if you ask me
there are no such thing
as accidents
I would tell you there is no
such thing
as coincidence
that you are only setting yourself
up
for failure
by choosing to believe
in miracles
if you asked me
I would tell you
a long time ago
many
many poems ago
I believed in love
at first sight
and
soul mates
and fate
but the truth is
these beliefs are built
on a quicksand foundation
of lust
and naivety
and sheer
stupidity
love
is the hardest part
of living
the deadliest war
to sign up for
your heart
is not a soldier
you
are not
a battleground
this love
is guerrilla warfare
that wink
this grin
those hands on my hips
these lips
on my neck
your breath
in my ear
my name
on your tongue
this
is
war
one poem ago
we were asleep
like lazy lovers
on a sunday afternoon
one poem ago
the sound of you
moaning my name
has seared itself
back into
my brain
one poem ago
I love you so
much that I say
I will never
let you go
and this morning
you are severing
your own arms
just to escape from
my grasp

so you came back
            so what
            so now every poem
                          every love letter
                          every "this is not a poem but"
                          every "this is not a love letter but"
                          every "okay, so this is definitely a poem and that is certainly a love letter"
they're all irrelevant now
every night I spent at the bottom
of the mariana trench holding
my breath waiting for you to
take it again
every morning I woke up with
a pillow wetter than niagara falls
and a chest so empty
                for so long
it has still not adjusted to this life
without your heart tucked away
under my ribs
but now that you're here again
and I've got you so close that I can
feel your heartbeat through
my back
your arms wrapped around me
surrounded by the peacefulness
of sleep
and innocence
I find myself constantly touching you
counting your fingers or staring at you
for so long that it begins to get weird
but you don't get it
you've been gone for so long that these
details have somehow escaped
my memory
how soft your hair is
and
how perfectly your hands fit into mine
how tall you are
how long I could hug you
and how
I would never need to let go
or come up for air
             so what
             so you're back now and it isn't fair
for me to hold onto this sadness
             so it's time for me to forgive
                                           and forget
only how am I supposed to forget
this feeling
or
this lack thereof
how am I supposed to forgive you
for nearly killing me
for throwing me over board
for ignoring the SOS of my silence
for forcing me to spend my nights alone
on the ocean floor
you knew I was afraid of drowning
and you tied these cinder blocks
of empty promises to my feet
but you know
and you knew I would be powerless in this
war of holding grudges
        of pride
you know and you knew that when
it comes to you I am always left waiting
with open arms and a hopeful heart
             so what
             so now that we're here again in your bed
and I feel your heartbeat through
my back
your arms wrapped around me
like a straitjacket I never want
to be freed from
every poem
every love letter
now
the clock
resets
to zero
and the score
is settled
again

today. do you know what day it is. has the thought yet to cross your mind or are you still too busy divorcing my memories, pretending your hands aren't ***** from burying the past. have you wiped your palms clean of these sins or are we still entertaining the idea of holiness here. when was the last time you stepped foot inside of a church. threading my fingers through your own as if in silent prayer to never forget this feeling. can you feel it yet. the confessional booth of your bedroom and all the times we sinned so hard that hell started to sound like a happily ever after. do you think about that day as much as I do. you down on one knee presenting me with a diamond ring brighter than god's teeth. the beginning of the end. who do I apologize to for never making it past the preamble. whose house is this church we call a home. all I know is that I would come to you every sunday morning for the rest of eternity if you'd just open up your ******* doors. tell me how to love again, tell me to repent. command me seven hail mary's and watch me taste your name through every single one. your name. honeysuckle and rosemary. the day we buried the children we never had, the day I carved their names into the tombstone of my heart. every day there is a new funeral. voicemails and memories and all things not tangible enough to warrant a casket but still tangible enough to line the graveyard of my mind. *hail mary full of grace, please let me forget his face.

you are both my Friday night and Saturday morning. when most people read that sentence they likely picture the two of us in the same bed, falling asleep together and then waking the next morning tangled up in each others arms like weeds that refuse to stop growing. they are wrong. what I mean by this is that I am up until four in the morning with this ache in my chest that wears your name. what I mean is that I woke up to sports center on my television and for the smallest fraction of a second it felt like waking up in your bedroom. what I mean is that it has been 165 days, 3,960 hours, 237,600 minutes, 14,256,000 seconds since I've seen the sun, smelled the roses, brewed the coffee, made the bed, held your heart, lost my breath. I have been empty for this five month 13 day eternity.

it has been one hundred and forty one days since I've seen you
since the day I decided to break all the rules
          the day that wasn't even supposed
     to happen
but I happened to find myself standing in your basement
staring at you for the first time in what felt like centuries but was only weeks
shaking like the ground had begun to quake beneath my feet
hoping
like a fool
that the desperate look in my eye
                                           or my trembling lips
               or the urgency in my voice
would be enough
to pull you back out from this person you've become
like a twisted form of reincarnation
that I do not even believe in

one hundred and forty one days later
and now
you only use me for ***
there are prettier ways of saying it
but there's nothing pretty about this
so I can't decide which is worse
the fact that you are using me for ***
or the fact that I am letting you
because it's been so long since anyone
has felt this close to me
since I've seen these beads of sweat condensating on your brow
the look in your eye
when you lose control
when you reach for my hand in hopes to
bring you back to this moment you
have lost yourself in
  you lost yourself in me
and see
a long time ago I lost myself in you
except the difference is
I'm not forming search parties
you can keep the pieces because I don't want them back

one hundred and forty one days later
I would much rather believe
that eventually
we can share them
again

this heartbreak isn't textbook. it isn't like those movies, or those books, or anyone's anything. bracing yourself for impact is an impossibility. nothing - and listen to me when I say nothing - can prepare you for this pain. you begin to miss everything. everything you thought you'd never miss: his obnoxious little brother and his father playing guitar too loud and the way his mother said the word "vegetables" and never having enough room to sleep. now I don't think I could get close enough to you if I tired. the closest I am getting to you these days is when your sign is next to my sign in a horoscope. and I know you don't believe in those but this is the only hope I have left. the barnum statements of romance hold no weight until I am told that we are perfect for each other. do you believe in alternate universes? maybe in another world we are happy together, eating popsicles and sharing sticky kisses. the truth is this poem is wearing on me. I'm tired of discussing the possibility of there being another you and another me together happy on a somewhere else far away. I am tired of writing the I miss you poem. I am tired.

note: I will continue to write the I miss you poem until my fingers break.

the monday morning migraine
rears its ugly head
yet again
it is 9:52
and I am thinking
about how you
can make a poem
out of anything
love letters and
hate letters
and
goodbye and
hello letters
all the same
because either
you feel the pain
now
or you save it
til the end
so I need someone
to tell me
what constitutes
an end

do you remember the table. you probably have no idea what I'm talking about, but do you remember the table. the garage sale your mother went to one summer morning and the beginning of the end. the small wooden table she couldn't help but to buy for the day that will never come. you buried it's possibility of existing the day you decided to let me go. but back to this table. do you remember it yet. how we imagined making pancakes in the morning and sitting at that table over cups of cold orange juice and warm breakfast and happy hearts. helping the kids with their homework and doing... other things I'm not comfortable discussing with your mother when she asks what we'll do with it one day. you know. you used to want me in any way you could get me. now I write the names of the children we will never have until my hands shake. I make too many pancakes and pour four more glasses of juice than I need for the family we will never create. it's a habit I can't seem to break. just tell me that you remember the table.

I am sitting across from you in a small diner booth over two cups of coffee that neither of us are drinking. you can't drink because you're too busy talking and I can't drink because my mouth has been frozen shut ever since we walked through the door. this silence feels more familiar than you do anymore. and when did you start ordering coffee? when did I? who are we now and how did we get here? how did it come to this? how did we let it come to this? how many nights did you spend fighting sleep because you couldn't stop thinking of me, wondering how I was doing or if I'd managed to stitch myself back together yet. how many nights. your mouth is still moving but I'm unable to hear what it is that you're saying. these words don't matter. they hold no weight at all. now you're apologizing. for what, I want to ask, but there are a million and one things you have to be sorry for, none of which you are. instead of I'm sorry it was always it's a joke, lighten up or you know I didn't mean it. I know. you didn't mean anything you said to me. I guess I'm crying now because your hand is reaching over the table to touch my cheek and your eyes are doing the thing where you look completely caught off guard. not sympathetic, just confused. I can't remember why we came here. why did we come here? how long has it been? you look different now, distant and not in love with me anymore. I don't like this view. I want to ask you if we can go back. you wouldn't know what I mean. you never do. did. sorry. I love you. I want to grab you by your shoulders and shout into your soul that I love you - that I've always loved you - that I never stopped and I never will. what are we doing here? then it happens. you reach for your pocket and my heart stops inside my chest as you extract the black box. the people around us probably think this is a proposal. I know better. your mouth moves again and your lips frame her name and the date and you're sorry but I'm not invited. and everything stops. it was supposed to be me. my white dress and your black tie and my father's hands shaking yours and my mother fixing my veil and my walk down the aisle and your vows in my ear. mine. my dress my day my church my life my you. you're saying you are sorry but you're not. it's something else. it's guilt. it's regret. it's the fact that we both know this is not how things were supposed to end up but here we are. cold cups of coffee and empty hearts. how did this happen how did we get here how did it come to this how
how did we let it come to this

I miss you. I'm out of fancy, poetic ways to say it any differently - to make it sound prettier or less desperate. sometimes I drive past your house late at night just to satiate this burning nostalgia inside my chest. I convince myself I'm not going out of my way but I am and every part of me knows it and none of these parts care. it's been five months to the day and this hollow in my heart has never felt so empty. I am in class and my professor thinks I'm taking notes - maybe I am. I don't want to forget these details, I don't want to part with this pain - not yet, anyway. this ache is all I have left. I know you don't care anymore and I'm sorry I can't seem to let go, I'm sorry for going down with the ship that's been sinking for years. they say too much time has separated the two of us but I say that's *******. we can go back and I can find you again. I know you don't want to be found. I know you do not even think you are lost. you said I couldn't accept the fact that you didn't love me anymore. you were right.

it still hurts in a way that's hard for you to explain to those who have never had to live every day knowing there are still pieces of your heart stuck inside someone else's chest. so what. so you still wear his old t-shirts to bed even though you know you should have thrown them out months ago, there are texts and photos on your phone that you can't bring yourself to erase no matter how many tears streak your face or how many times your heart breaks all over again. every single day you think of calling him, but only certain days are bad enough for you to actually contemplate it: days that used to be important and hold value - his birthday, your birthday, your anniversary, holidays - but then the obvious days turn into days where it hurts so deep that you look for reasons to call; it's raining and you want to say hey, remember that time we were in Sandusky and it thunderstormed so hard our whole hotel shook and lightening illuminated Lake Erie? remember how I was so scared, and you held me all night long? or when it's midnight and you throw on his old clothes even though they stopped smelling like his cologne an eternity ago, their cotton hasn't touched his skin in months but you wear them anyway because you resonate with that feeling, and you think of calling just to say that you wish you could feel him one last time. you do. you wish you could drive to his house again, you still know the way so well you could do it with your eyes closed, sneak up to his bedroom and crawl into bed with him even though you both complained it was too small for two people, you wish you could zip your fingers together like an old jacket, familiar and warm, you wish you could bury your face into his chest and smell his skin again, feel his lips kiss the top of your head as if this constituted saying I love you, I missed you out loud. the truth is you're more than well aware any combination of these things are very unlikely to ever occur, but that doesn't stop you from wishing, from picking up stray pennies or blowing out everyone else's birthday candles. do you remember the first time you saw a shooting star. how you were with him and how it felt a little like fate. you want to call him and tell him that you've never been so broken. that you believe you can go backward, because you don't see a forward that you like. but you can't. so instead you keep his name buried underneath your tongue. you don't cry when you miss him because no one understands it anymore; too much time has passed. get over it already. you keep his sweaters warm inside your dresser drawers and you wash the sheets weekly because they smell like someone else now. the bed never stops feeling empty. there are eight stop lights between your house and his, and this distance has never looked more red.

I want to open up my bedroom window and listen to the warm summer rain and call you and tell you I love you. That this morning I remembered how I'd try to massage your legs and you'd laugh so hard because your legs were ticklish and how I could never actually massage your legs and I love you. I want to ask if sometimes all these memories wash over you unexpectedly too, pulling you under, drowning you. I want to tell you that it's okay to call and tell me when it happens and that I love you and we can teach each other how to swim again. And I love you.

I can't believe it's almost
two years to the day
and still to this day
I can't stomach to look
at your face
because looking at your face
means looking at your mouth
and your mouth gives me anxiety
in the worst kind of way

I wonder if they know
your gifriend or your sister
I would say your parents but
we all know that they don't
because they are my parents too
and I've made absolutely sure
to keep this secret safe between
the sheets of my bed and
pieces of paper that always
find their way to the bottom
of my trashcan

your mouth
you smelled like alcohol even though
we both know there was no way
you could have possibly been drunk
you snuck me down into a basement
I will never be able to crawl out of
without turning the lives of everyone
upstairs in our house upside down

so why am I still keeping your secret
don't I deserve that
don't I deserve upside down and
broken glasses and furious parents
don't I deserve answers and closure and
the simple satisfaction in the fact that
everyone would know what you did

but it's almost two years to the day
and as they're lighting the candles
on my birthday cake
the only wish I have left
is that no one
will ever
find out