it’s easier to
get mad over
the mundane things
like you taking ten
seconds instead of five
to answer what chain
restaurant you want
to eat at
then to accept the
crippling pain that
i miss you even
though you’re not
yet gone.

we were small children when we grew up

wishing our parents would talk to us about the beloved Constitution,
not at us
wishing our parents would decide to quietly invite themselves
into our ideas, questions, our favorite novels
instead of constantly quoting their own favorite parts of The Bible
instead of complaining so fervently about Islam and poor people

wishing instead of asking
scrambling instead of composing
Do you remember anything?
You were small, and barely talking
But always laughing with me, listening
pointing and nodding

we were orphaned for 3 months as toddler and tiny girl,
while they were mobilizing in Saudi Arabia,
we were stuck with a violent guardian from the family, and I remember
her biting my arm, and pushing her chair
onto mine to crush my fingers when she was mad, and I remember
mom screaming at her over the phone when she found out, and I remember
she loved to kick our dog and sleep in their bed and I remember
deciding to say nothing when I saw this
and how she never saw me watching, the narcissist that she was.

so by age 5 my parents now knew that I was certainly old enough to pay close attention
and when mom and dad were deployed to Egypt for 9 months and 6 months, respectively,
they orchestrated a sequence of 3 live-in sitters trading off every 2 weeks, periodically,
we were stuck in a cyclical round of stuffy, busy au pairs
and I was the host
and I kissed dad's picture because he would call us almost every day
and mom would not
yet it was her I remembered the most
yet it was dad that you actually forgot

When we had them back I realized
I wanted to forget him, too, sometimes.
I hated worrying about them. I remember when I was 7 and our dog died
His heart was so debilitated for months.
Soon after he was able to fling our replacement puppies
in a fit of rage, just once
He retired first, that year, while mom was shipped off to Kuwait
Soon we found out he had no friends, she was his only mate
We felt sorry for him
We ate tv dinners every day and night for 6 months
And although I do have small handfuls of memories
with his hands suddenly on my throat and me on my knees
They always end with him apologizing and sobbing
And me, unscathed but shaken, glowing but glaring

by ages 8 and 10
we were reciting the bill of rights and criticizing welfare
but still could never understand ?
competition or war or cosmetics or long hair

I would always march, I felt like a boy and a girl
and also felt like neither one, I would always twirl
I was taught early on that accomplishments
are more
valuable and profitable of an experience
than forming,
with no meaning, such fleeting relationships

I've ending up simply not comprehending courtship
I might be a light, empty holster that you cannot equip.
I've never sensed the fond feeling of an honest liaison
Except at funerals where I'm free to imagine my own expiration

there are those of us who found kindness by insight
while we were taught to play the offense and be glad to fight
Yet intuitively we knew this aggression has a cost
so we harbored it within our frontal lobes, where we became lost
Some of us have been fighting demons since
our own hearts could breathe and our own eyes could rinse,
And the real reasons we did bad things
were simply too boring, too excruciating

these children fear, then assume, their best friend won't want to play
having discovered that having daydreams may be impending dismay
these are all the people who I haven't ever gotten to greet
they echo my certainties that there are other stories to meet

we were children who always imagined being a squib
keeping faith that wizards and wands were real
they'd take us away from this place to another glib
world of feasts and friends
A house consistently without parents, a house in which we could heal

we've become a collection of bucket lists.
hypothetical "let's do this", "let's be here",
and "i'll go wherever you go."
but instead of marking minutes,
i'm marking miles. 3 states, 2 time zones,
and sometimes, an ocean apart.

but oh, my dearest, don't you know?
even when i'm here and you're there,
the sun still shines. the moon gets me home,
and every step i take is a step closer to you.

to my darling johnny, when your heart is weary,
when the days are brown and your eyes are tired,
rest easy. a parade is waiting for you. there is no
sadder, scarier, or more heartbreaking feeling than
loneliness. but dear john, you are never alone.

when days and days have passed and silence becomes
our preferred form of communication, your letters will come.
the bucket lists will turn into sticky-note reminders that someone
has you planted in her heart and allowed flowers to grow.

I couldn't breathe,
As I laid in a ball,
On my twin size bed,
Curled up on the side,
You used to lay on.
"Babygirl, don't cry."
You said all the time.
But saying that,
Would be the same,
As if I asked you not to go.
Both of which inevitable.

I've always pondered,
What it'd be like to lose,
My heart,
Perhaps I shouldn't.
In one week,
From two yesterdays ago,
You'll be gone,
And with you,
My heart shall go too.
But you'll be so brave,
My little soldier,
Just remember,
To hold my heart dear.

If you were to ask me
"what time is it?"

Don't look at me puzzled if I am ahead by six hours
right after i check my watch and tell you

My heart lives on the 7 when we are still on 1
and those notches in between
Are in a space I constantly feel pulling on me

Because hes on the 7 and I'm on the 1
The 6 hours difference in what it is
and what i told you

Makes the world of difference to me

Time is such a treasure 
That's quicker lost than found
And when it's gone you search again
For whatever's left around

A second seems like nothing 
When you have plenty to spare 
You never learn to value them
Until they just aren't there

A minute isn't that much more
So you toss them left and right 
And then you're scrambling to find
Enough for one more night 

An hour can be wasted 
As easily as breath or speech 
But when you have to count them down
You learn to make the most of each 

In the end I find it easier 
To always value time 
To cherish every single second 
Of every moment that you're mine

The water is deep and you are gone.
again. I should be used to it. I miss you most when it rains. The petrichor drowns your scent/laugh/touch/voice- the waves of missing you crush me with their weight. Sometimes, i drown. More often, i swim. rarely, i float.

"Sea to shining sea", I you, we are lonely. Never alone, they say we say, but always alone. cold nights and endless mornings. Sometimes, on calmer days i look back .
To when you were here. When we were we. I love you. To the depth of your ocean. with the weight of your ship. To wherever you are and back again. but.

You are not here. You are gone and the dark water rises to cover my mouth so you can't hear my scream. a small mercy.
The sun rises in the morning- it makes me cry.

Our stars- the same where you are as i am in our white house on our porch with my flag- are gone. It's harder to imagine you here. the sun is too bright to lend me your warmth.  And you are gone.

I eat lunch, see friends, miss you. Our house feels like my house. But a picture reminds me. It is shared by two. Sometimes.

sometimes  i can close my eyes
         and picture you here; sometimes i think of you and smile. Mostly, i wait for you. wonder about you. Rarely do i go a day without missing you, never do i go a second without thinking of you.
    
You come back to me like the waves. But you are not- The Same. I worry until you leave again. Then constantly, i worry still.

But this time when the rain falls, you drown. I don't. yet.
The waves proved too much and they knock "rap, rap,rap" on my tiny red door in the middle of the blackest night
they are sorry, they say.
so am I, I cry until i flood the earth, fills their oceans, drown my pain and their pathetic remorse, the flag they give me is soaked but it helps me stay afloat

This little white house is mine, not ours, and i can no longer swim.