The clock ticks, we are far away from each other
I watched the trees as the skies went darker
In a few minutes, our eyes will meet
And in that moment my heart will skip a beat

Are you thinking of me now?
I wish I appear in your mind somehow
Because your figure resides inside
It's a part of me that I can never hide

As time goes by, as I travel by train
The thought of you causes me less pain
In just a few minutes we'll meet
In just a few minutes, this is it

I always remember how wide your smile was
How your eyes' brightness never lasts
How your voice gives comfort to my ears
And these little things rid me of my fears

Are you at the train station already?
Are you still waiting for me?
Do not worry, I'll be there soon
It's just a matter of time... until our world blooms

Who are we kidding
when we place a bottle to our lips and
try to call it a marriage of some sort
the last thing I remember
a straw between my teeth then
your ear in its place
fast forward to me counting the steps to your door
1, 2, 3.. 6.. 14..25
I was barely 13 before I was taught love was a call to arms,
not a veritable verb
you told me it was good enough
holding it in my palm
and really I should’ve known
when every attempt at romance was nothing above a whisper
how I was your best kept secret at 15

at 19, I still unravel under the influence
my cup is empty from the nights I gave you so much it
tumbled
into the morning after but all that was left to grab at was
your hair on my pillow,
you were spontaneous like that, weren’t you?
and I,
hey, why won’t you just lighten up?
You fancied flight and I only wanted the pebbles
crushed beneath my plimsolls
telling me all I ever needed to know,
that
the smallest only get stifled more
and before I knew it
I was a crushed up beer can,
insides still wet ******* it
coursing real liquid in real time
just
so
I could live to love you
and you tell me, sobriety hurts
like I’m only beautiful when I’m a blur
oh sweetheart,
if only you knew how pretty your eyes were
before they rolled to the back of your head,
and sweetheart,
I hope you make it home tonight.

and that home,
is you retching on the floor,
on your knees because that’s where you liked me best.

I cried simply because I could. You made it that way. You made it easy for me to do things that are selfish or dramatic, you allowed me to be human and most of all, to be honest with myself. You made it easy for me to not feel ashamed. When I cried over the phone it was because even on my worst nights when I would stab you in the chest, you would pull the blade out and apologize for getting blood on me. When I was violent, you were gentle. I do not mean to victimize you or demonize myself, but that is as raw as the truth will get. I cried because the bed space next to me was empty, and I cried because the grace of an angel does that kind of thing to you. I felt like a drug to you and you would always let me know that you were addicted, delirious, demented and proud. And in favor, I too would let you **** me as long as it meant that you ran through me every second of every day.
You told me that when you DO think of her, you see the image of the 17, 18 year old you sitting on your bed, across the room where it used to be, crying on empty nights, an empty mattress, an empty chest, and perhaps empty bottles or empty promises as well. That you had to classically condition yourself to not let her cross your mind, because it became a routine for you to let the torture flood your lungs, and leave you out of breath. I asked you what you thought of when you think of me, and you said your bedsheets. You said that when it comes to me, it's the image of a new you, a new person fresh out of old skin, sitting on your bed, near the window where you moved it to a couple of months ago, with the sheets perfectly layered and fixed, simply because I know how you love it so. I remembered an annoying peeve that you had, a quirk, or a typo in the page. I memorized it, simply so that I could fix it, and save you the trouble. You said that it was something so minimal, yet it meant so much. When you spoke about me and when you spoke about her, you spoke of two different people who came into your life that symbolized two different you's, but to me you were always the same person just eating different things for dinner, and bathing in different temperatures.

I want to dance with you to jazz music while we wear only our underwear at 2am.
I want our bodies to know each other so well that our hearts start to beat in unison.
I crave to hear the fluent Spanish flow off your lips when I make you feel something that English can not express.
I want to call you mine before bed when you finally let your hair drape down past your shoulders, and when you make your first cup of coffee in the morning.
It's 5 in the morning and I can't stop thinking about her loving you the way that I should be.

Is it worth
Anything in the end?
I truly do pray
To the seasons
And the rain
And the tears that fall
From my eyes to the floor.
To the sky and the
Clouds and the spirits
Traveling throughout the atmosphere.
I pray to them that
One day this may be sanity
And I may be in love
With someone who wants me
Nearly half as much as I
Want to be next to them.