remember to celebrate breath
dance
live
heal

perhaps only willful blindness
can wake your trust

This year,
my pages will bleed ink
but for those who deserve it
One day I will be the poem
And not the poet

I didn’t know people
really had “sides of the bed”
I used to sleep close to the window
The enjoyed the sunlight on my face in the morning
Now I sleep on the left
The right side remains unwrinkled
Afraid to be touched
For what if you come back
It’s not my side
It’s yours

My keyboard displays your name whenever I type the first letter
Your city is still in my weather app
My car named your house “home”
My pillow case reeks of your cologne
Our pictures line the walls of my childhood bedroom
Your coffee order still sits favorited in the app
Sometimes when I do the laundry,
and one of my socks goes missing,
yours will show up instead
I have jewelry tucked away,
that occasionally finds its way up to the front
Half of my wardrobe was yours

Maybe if someone warned me,
that I would be haunted by you for the rest of my life,
I would’ve been more careful

The other day,
I walked down the mainstreet of downtown
Past a coffee shop
There was a boy in the window,
holding a coffee
He looked familiar,
but I don’t have the slightest clue who he was

The strangest thing though,
I could tell you what he did when he woke up this morning
The names of his dogs
His favorite song
The reason he quit playing basketball
How he does his hair

I knew what kind of coffee was in that stranger’s cup

It’s the moments that are filled the most,
with people
with laughs
with noise
with warmth
That I find my mind,
wandering to you