it’s more than just a happy song

i don’t know how to write a poem when i’m happy
but if i did, it would be called "strawberry swing"
i’ve had this title in my head for two years now
because an unexplained feeling always engulfs me when i hear that song
probably because it reminds me of that day

we went to the lake
but funny enough
that’s what i remember the least
what do i remember?

well, first, i remember turning into the wrong parking lot
hoping we were lost
so we could stay there longer
hoping the forecast for rain would hit
so we could “sit in the car and wait for it to blow over”

i remember the curving country roads that you drove around
(probably a little too fast—but that’s okay, it added to the thrill, to the excitement in my heart)
that wound for miles with no end in sight
which i was perfectly fine with
as i sat in the passenger seat listening to you hum along to the playlist we made together

i remember it was late june, early summer
warm enough to have the windows down
warm enough to see the sun dance across the windshield before speckling our skin, our eyes with light
the same sun that i noticed, for the first time, called your freckles out of hiding
warm enough for the car to get just a little bit too hot once we returned
but i didn’t care as long as you were in it

i remember having a conversation and being surprised that you were looking at me while i spoke
nodding your head along
smiling
inquiring
interested in me
i remember thinking that was a new feeling

i remember the closer and closer we got to home
the more and more excuses i tried to come up with in my head to get you to stay
how many red lights could we hit?
do you need to fill up on gas?
will all the street parking outside my house be full?
(so we can circle the block
even 5 more seconds will suffice)

well, we sat there for a while
you wanted to stay longer
making small talk like we did for months
neither of us wanted to leave
what are you doing later?
have you heard this song?
are you free any other days this week?

but we didn’t want this week
we wanted today
right now
this moment

it’s such a perfect day

dear basil,

i know long distance is the bane of your existence
and you feel like the only person that understands you is
more than 1000 miles away
(maybe that's true)

i also know that you are cursing yourself at 3am
for wanting to be held
thinking that means you are toxic and codependent
but it's OKAY to want love
(i promise)

it's okay to cry yourself to sleep sometimes
because loving across distance is hard and painful
as long as you pick yourself back up in the morning
do your skincare routine, feel beautiful
sing to yourself, be whimsical
smile at strangers, wear your heart on your sleeve
(your heart is not broken, just tired)

but you can do it
live in text messages and phone calls
write letters, send care packages
until you can kiss his soft lips goodnight
every. single. night.
(it will be worth it)

(i promise),
basil

this is how it works
you're young until you're not
you love until you don't
you try until you can't
you laugh until you cry
you cry until you laugh
and everyone must breathe
until their dying breath

now this is how it works
you peer inside yourself
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood
and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again

my stomach has become an hourglass
digesting the sandy grains of time we have before you leave me
i can count the days on my fingers now

but you still whisper sweet forevers in my ear
you still kiss me like we have all the moments in the world
you still hold me like you don't have to let go

and i have to remind myself
that i don't get to keep you in my pockets
that you signed a contract with your future
and my name isn't on it

i have to whisper the bitter "nows" when you're not around
and hold myself together when you let go

the first night you came over
after a few drinks of warm seltzer
i ran into the bathroom, gripped the sink, stared at myself in the mirror and said, “he is going to love me like i deserve”
i casually walked back to the living room, picked up my can, and drank the warm seltzer
the taste of the best summer of my life

now, as i sit here writing, it’s been over a year, and he does in fact love me like i deserve
yet i am here, running into my bathroom, gripping the sink, staring at myself in the mirror, and wishing that there was another body in the frame next to mine
i casually walk back to the living room, pick up my phone, and open the countdown app for the fifth time today to look at the number of days until i can see you again
16 days
that’s better than 31 like last time

if you ask me what the taste of the summer is for this summer
i’d tell you “longing”
but really, i’d be wishing it was warm seltzer
warm on your breath as you pulled me closer into you and whispered something in my ear

Are we drifting apart
Or is this normal
Are we falling apart
Or is this normal
Have you lost interest
Or is this normal
Will you still wait for me
Or are we done

I miss you but I don't know you
And my name would puzzle you
Yet neither rise your curiousity
Yet you're addictive to me,
This sensation, this adversity,
Sweet, like some iridescent nectar gathered by hundreds of fairies in an instant,
From some magical forest forever showered by the gentle light of the golden hour in the distant...
Albeit the bitter pain afterwards instead,
When reality take back its stead,
Who are you? I don't know
This doesn't make any sense, that I know...
But... if only I can dream a bit longer, for I have dreamed far too long, I know...
But, if there is even a tinier than a speckle of dust of possibility,
In this whole world our universe of unpredictability, please...
I'd like to make our story a reality...
Dilly dally, ***** nilly, talks of dailies,
No roses or daisies,
Just two souls walking together,
In harmony parallel, cruising in life for forever
...

Oh my dearest known
I’ve fallen for your words of yore
I think that if i had loved
Another before
I’d forget them completely
And love you evermore
And though i have never known your likeness
And we are across the shores
If I saw you in a crowd
I’d run, sing and adore
And if you grow tired
Your forgiveness i implore
But still, i love you
Forevermore

I miss you when it’s late at night and I’m tired or sleepy, and I want someone to cuddle, i want your arms wrapped around me and to crawl into bed and have your scent wrap around me and feel your warmth. I want to hug you to my chest and ask you to stay, don’t go. Stay.
I miss you whenever I see love and adoration. I miss you when I see their PDA or their laughter and I think of your smile and how even if I cause it, I can’t see it, because you’re there and I’m here. I see them smiling and laughing and holding each other and I’m sad, I’m jealous and sad and I wish you were here.
I wish that was us.
I miss you when I’m frustrated. When I’m angry and lost and near tears, when I hug my stuffed animal to my chest and wish it was you and that i could bury my face in your chest or neck and exist on a plane that is only us. Exist on a plane where when I open my arms you come, when you hold out your hand I can grab it.
I miss you when its raining, and I wish that we could watch it together. Cozy up and watch a movie, listen to the sky weep.
I miss you when I’m relaxing, when I’m sitting in my loud as hell chair and watching a show, and I want to tell you everything, complain about the protagonist and her obliviousness, rant about the misogynistic boss. I want to tell you my little thrills, lean over your shoulder and peek at your game or video, poke you with my cold toes, fall asleep on the couch to the sound of your little outrages and victories.
I miss you when I stare out at the night sky, and imagine a future where I can turn over in bed and see you there, asleep, and know that when I wake up, you won’t be gone, and this isn’t a dream.
I miss you when it’s cold outside, when I can see my breath, and I’m shivering, and you’re not here to tell me I should’ve dressed warmer, you're not here to pull the hat off your head and put it on mine, not here so I can protest and try to give it back, chase you down the sidewalk.
I miss you when I see a funny animal or a cool building or a small flower, and I have no one to turn to and say, look!, no one to share my small thrill. Maybe someday I can tell someone, I can tell a friend, but for now, I tell myself, and smile to only myself.
It hurts when you’re happy without me, it hurts when they get to see you and I don’t.
It would hurt so much more if you were struggling, if you were lonely like I.
I know you miss me. I know inside and I see outside that you miss me. My own insecurities only tell me lies, and sometimes they can be mean, and I have to stop and think how hurt I would feel if you thought that kind of thought of me. That is the evil of insecurities.

When I miss you, sometimes it’s fleeting. Sometimes I wish you were here, acknowledge you’re not, and continue my day. Sometimes I tell you I miss you. You always say it back. Sometimes I think and think on what could have been if I was closer to home, and I have some regrets, I do.
But I don’t think I want to be anywhere but here, if I had to choose.

They say long distance is hard. I think it is, and it isn’t.
It’s hard if you stop communicating, if you stop sharing little things.
It’s hard if you stop thinking of each other, exist only in your visible reality.
These are things neither of us do.

But it’s hard when I miss you, when I’m *****, when I long to touch you or listen to you laugh.
It’s hard when I feel the word clingy, when I want to be wanted, when I wish you would miss me and miss me, so that we feel the same. But I don’t want you to hurt, because when you hurt it hurts me. Is that selfish self interest? Perhaps. But it hurts to see or hear you hurt. It hurts to know you’re hurting, and I want to fix it, I want to solve. But I am here, and you are there, and it is your hurt to bear. I can’t take it away or presume to know how to fix it, if it can even be ‘fixed’.

I miss you. That’s really what I came here to say. I miss you.
I hope you miss me too.