I hope that when I walk away,
you'll understand that I am leaving
not to hurt you,
but to save myself
from being hurt by you.

it presses my shoulder blades,
ties my neck muscles into knots,
then settles deep within my chest.
the pain is the first sign
that my body is haunted.
it then puts my thoughts
on a hamster wheel.
they run in circles
without an escape.
this is the second sign.
but my heart takes control.
it voices my thoughts
so they can be seen and heard.
it stops spinning the wheel,
slowly comes out of my chest,
unties the knots in my neck
and lets go of my shoulder blades,
and my body does not feel its weight.

Maybe one day I’ll take one extra pill
and the people who took me for granted
won’t hear from me again

for once—
i’ll be the one ghosting them

I take in the lines of your face, every crevice every crack. He often jokes that I could draw him with my eyes closed at this point.
But he lets me stare, he lets my trace my fingers over his stubbled cheek and strong jaw.

I study his movements, how his brow furrows whenever I trace his cupids bow. I then make my way down towards his hands, one the gently clasps the worn book I had gotten him.
He reads it over and over, the same page.

I clasp the other and attempt the stroke the harshness away.
The ***** fingernails, from planting my roses, even though I always insist we could have the gardeners do it.
The bumpy palm, filled with white scars that he never forgets,
I do not mind for it gives me more to remember of him.
More to savor.

I decide to lift his hand up under the candlelight, examining the jagged lines that make him so much more.
A few are still tender he tells me.
How did they happen I ask?
He does not reply, only starts again at the top of the same page.

I lean back, examining the flicker of yellow in his eyes, in the candlelight it seems to turn golden.
Your eyes make you look unreal my love,
I say adoringly looking to the candle.
That’s because I am.
I snap my head back towards him.
But now there is no gold, only white.
And my hand turns cold and heavy.
For he is gone, only half of him remains.

I see you behind clouds grey
The beaming sunshine after a storm
Evidence of beauty in tragedy

I see you in glistening oceans
Unsure of the waters awaiting past horizon
Evidence of beauty in uncertainty

I see you in dancing fields
The swaying of grass to the perennial hum of the wind
Evidence of beauty in tranquil

I see you in a tight hug
The comfort it offers
Evidence of beauty in safety

I see you in every little thing
Because people believe what they want to believe
People see what they ought to see

And I believe that I see you in all the beautiful things —
Evidence of love so pure.

I hope you do, too
If you could just see me too.