you asked me where i wanted to go,
but all i said was i don't know.
you handed me a map,
but i laid it on my lap.
i rested my head on the window
and watched the passing show of
tree
after
tree
after
tree.
i took solace in the one thing
i knew i had-
myself.
it might not have been enough
but it was the most that i had.
so i held it tight in my chest
and braced myself for the road
set before us.

I know it's just a number,
Something made up of ones, twos, and threes.
It isn't a label,
But I feel as if I've lost the stamp of approval.
I'm way up here
But I want to be way down
there.
After all
The less one is
The more he is viewed.
& sometimes it doesn't hurt to be seen.

(& no, it was not like Martin Luther King, Jr.).
I had a dream that you had died
And I was still here.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
So instead you said hello to a place I could never go.
You would think that I would have felt something-
Known that you had just let go.
Perhaps a tugging in my chest would have signaled
The pulling of strings-
The undoing of us.

But no,
I felt nothing
(just like you do now).

I didn't even have time to process or mourn properly
(if there is even such a thing)
Because the next frame was your funeral.
I sat in a pew in the back
And I couldn't remember if I was wearing the black dress you'd liked.
People were telling stories
Of who you were and what you did,
But I couldn't handle it.
I didn't want to hear about was and when and were.
I wanted to hear you.

I am not yours
Nor can I ever be.
I am bound to this world
This earth
This terrain
While you-  
You are walking across the universe
On steps that I will never graze upon.

I envy the faces you pass-
People who don't even know your name
Yet are privileged to be in your presence
While I am here, clinging to the mere indentation of you on my bed.

I don't understand the logic behind this.
I know you.
I have seen you wake up in the early morning,
A sketch of hazy eyes and soft edges.
I have seen you thrash in the middle of the night,
Delirious and fevered from the demons in your head.
I've held your calloused hands
And mapped out your scars
To the constellations of the dark dark sky.
I knew all of that
And yet
I still could not be yours.

The hour I knew loved you
Was not in late morning when you pulled a chair up for me.
It was not in mid afternoon when you brushed my hair out of my eyes.
It was not before sunset when you say goodbye and pulled away.
It was not at 3 am when you whispered “I love you” as I fell asleep.
No, it was not during any of these.

The hour I knew loved you
The sky was on fire.
The sky bled of the secrets you had so desperately crammed into your veins.
The sun tore through the clouds--
Blazes of orange, red, pink, purple, yellow streaked across the horizon.
Your desire was written in the unfathomable distance from where I stood.

The hour I knew loved you
The world was in a flood.
A torrent of rain pounded against my frail windows begging to be let in,
“Hear my story. Hear my story.”
They reverberated through the halls of my lonely house.
It was frightening and dangerous and yet the most beautiful sound my ears had ever heard.

The hour I knew loved you
The earth broke open.
A great divide tore between from where I stood and where you longed for me to be.
The dark abyss contained the great monsters of time,
Clawing out to drag another victim to his grave.
My bones shook and my body ached as I stretched myself across the gap.

The hour I knew loved you
My heart broke into two.
I broke my ribs to make room for your beating heart of loss and love.
I straightened my spine to carry your burdens;
I crushed what little I had of myself to give you a place to stay.
& what a great privilege it was to have you take refuge in this broken body of mine.

You will be my greatest heartbreak.
You will be the reason why I hide from the rain
Why I sleep early on school nights
Why I avoid numbers.

I'll never look at stars the same
Since you'll be looking at the same ones just a block away.
This school
With its halls
     Lockers
          Desk
               And doors
Will never be my second home
Because my second home will always be you.
This hill-
This sweet welcoming hill-
Will just be a reminder of how far apart we really are.

But the worst part
The worst part
Will be reaching for another book,
A story that I had loved
A story that you had loved
A story that you will never read.
You will always be there
Etched
Woven
Embroidered
Between the lines of each turning page.
You are the boy next door,
The unexpected ally,
The hero to the story.
You are the twist and turn of events,
The cliff hanger,
The conflict,
The resolution.
You are the emotion held between the quotation marks,
The cliche phrases,
The words that break the reader's heart (just like mine).

You will be my greatest heartbreak
But also my favorite.
Because at least for a moment
You held my heart in palms of your hands.