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I know that I'm the one who left you
but it's 2 in the morning
and all I can think
is that I wouldn't even blink
if you appeared in my bedroom
and crawled into bed with me
spooning away the reasons we know
we don't work together
sleeping off the bad memories
loving each other
simply out of habit
it's easy because it's all
we've ever known
but it's 2 in the morning
and I know that I'm the one who left you
I'm awake thinking of this
and you are asleep
not even dreaming of me
today
some part of me decided
that the lilac sky reminded
me of you
pale November blue
and a chill in the autumn air
the orange sun hides behind
the morning moon,
you wouldn't even know it was there
if you weren't looking for it
I think that's a little like how I fell for you
the first day I saw you,
you were like the moon I'd never bothered to pay attention to before
but one morning
you look up
its 7 am
and you know the moon isn't supposed to be there
but it is
and it's beautiful
it was a little like that
I looked up one day and I saw you standing there
I'd never noticed you before,
but once I saw you,
I found myself always looking;
always averting my gaze upwards
towards the morning sky
to see the beauty of the moon.
I feel sick to my stomach when I think of you kissing anyone else
I'm sick with the torturous knowledge that none of them could ever hope to love you like
I did
I want to tell her that I held your heart in my hands for so long that it became commonplace until the day you decided you wanted it back
I want to call you a re-gifter
But I can't seem to get the bees out of my throat
Swallowing glass has to be less painful than this
Than watching you look for someone else like I haven't been standing right in front of you all this time
Yesterday was my first Thanksgiving without you in years
And I'm not sure I remember how to be thankful for anything else
I'm trying to remember the last sunset we saw together
The sky painted itself black and blue and I pretended not to identify with that
I've been writing poetry warning myself of this day for years
And taking this ring off my finger doesn't make it any less painful
or any easier to fool myself into thinking
that I haven't shoved the last 4 years of my life into a box underneath my bed
Like forgetting you is really that simple
I wonder if the ring will still fit by the time you come around again
I wonder if you'll come around again
at all
I want to tell those girls that you don't love them
I wonder if they've imagined what your bedroom looks like yet
I wonder if they know that
the valleys of your mattress are still waiting for me to come back
Waiting to transform against our weight and fill the spaces between your shoulders and my spine
I want to tell them that your walls watched us kiss so many times that it became as common as you turning the lights off
But none of that even matters anymore
and this is the saddest holiday of them all
come & find me
i've left my phone plugged
into the wall because i can't feel
you breathe through your fingertips
and i can't read your lips through emoji
your belly-button doesn't look right shrouded
in 8 mega-pixel dust and i want to touch you instead
of a keyboard on a screen and tell you about my day because
even though it's written doesn't mean it's real meet me offline because
i don't want a five second snapchat victory snapshot of your *****-line
i don't want my silly romantic poetry to be re-grammed on your insta
framed against a picturesque city skyline or a stoic mountain lion
with hashtags and sexting doesn't turn me on like the sound of
your voice i can write you letters until my fingers bleed but
they always arrive seven days late and you never cry
when you cut them open with a knife and i'm not
looking for a pen pal anyway or a friend
instead i seek a mirror with glowing
teeth or an outlet to plug
into and charge
me up
he makes me feel like I'm running to the subway with only a minute to spare and I can't tell whether I make it in time or not
sitting cross legged on the linoleum
reading Keats aloud while she bathed
talking about the desire to write for the ages
and what it takes to be a “real” poet
she leans forward smiling
grabs me and draws me close
planting the sweetest kiss
upon my lips
“you are my favorite poet”
she says
and leans back into the steaming water
“…but you can read more of him if you want” –
i could have fallen in love
with the boy on the football team
the boy with a promised future
i could have gotten the diamond ring
and the honeymoon in paris
a white picket fence
had daughters with pretty hair
and sons with their dad's eyes
late night dinner parties and conference calls
steady income and monotonous life
i could have fallen in love with ease

but instead i fell in love with you
with all your bruises and scars
and your torn apart heart
your baggage and your past
your unwashed hair and your laugh
i fell in love with the dreams you held
and the late night conversations which never seemed to end
you had no money, you had no wealth
you had nothing to give me but love
and for me, that was enough

i could have fallen in love with ease
but instead i fell in love with *uncertainty
he was the kind of boy her mama always warned her about
eyes full of mischief and words full of deceit
but, oh God, when he spoke it was as if the clouds would bow to him
& the mountains would crumble in his presence
the way he cocked his brow and gave her that sultry smile
sent her round and round as if she was on a never ending ride

he was like a bottle of sweet poison
addicting, even though it's bound to **** you in the end
she knew she'd never be able to look at him and see her future
but she saw in him her present and a world left unexplored
she knew how much she would be giving up
if she died without knowing if the lips which spoke the sweet words
tasted as good as the words themselves
she knew she would never be at rest in her grave
if she never felt the melody in his body combine with her own symphonies
running her hand down his spine, discovering the mysteries often left unsolved
she knew she would regret it if she let him open her book and read her
but a greater loss would be if she never read his

& so she gave in.

his eloquence was her personal brand of *****
and tonight she was intoxicated all the way up to cloud nine
his body in the moonlight was like crystal under the sun
she just couldn't look away
his nails carved words of wonder in her back
and his mouth tattooed poetry between her thighs
it felt to her as if the words he etched words on her body
were even better than those spoke on the stage beneath the spotlight

with eyes full of mirth and wonder
she looked at him like he was the only star in the night sky
no,
boys like him were beyond stars
*boys like him were galaxies
you know those scenes in the movies where everything kinda slows down and you don't hear voices but music, and it's probably acoustic, but also happy too and everything is gold because of the sun and the people's smiles and you stare at the screen and just feel that maybe life is gonna be okay ?
that's how I feel about you.
yeah life gets crazy sometimes and I get anxious and moody and frustrated, but then I look at you and life feels better, and everything sorta turns gold.
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