Thoughts I had as you drove away
1. You were never as beautiful to me as the moment I realized it was the last time I would see you. I suddenly noticed tiny things about you, like how seeing the back of your neck hurt more than seeing the hue of your eyes.
2. I probably would have eaten that **** bacon quiche if you had cooked it because I don't know how to say no to you when you look at me and let me lose myself in the calm lake of your soul
3. I have wondered three hundred and forty eight times in the past two weeks whether or not you are happy now. I have seen you three times in fourteen days and each time you looked a bit strained, which is strange because I distinctly remember the twinkle in your left eye when we were canoeing and I wonder if it died, or if you hide it under your bed and put it on only for special occasions.
4. I wondered twice as many times when I stopped being a special occasion, if after opening the present, ripping off strands of me to get to my heart, you decided what you found was not worth your light. So you left the box open, the gift wrap spread all over the floor, and you moved on to another present, leaving me long forgotten.
5. Does someone else get to see that spark every now and then?
6. You grabbed my pinkie at that dance and didn't let go, even when the blood rushed out and it turned blue. I didn't want to let go. I think at that point I would have rather lost my finger than let go of you. We had known each other less than twelve hours. You oozed confidence, didn't know the steps and yet you went for it. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen.
7. I thought ****, he is going to be my best friend. We are going to eat pop corn and laugh for hours and sit in silence and if happiness were a glowstick I would wear yours on my wrist and give you mine so I would shine on you and you would shine on me.
8. I never got around to getting my glowstick back.
9. You never got around to giving me yours.
10. If happiness is a glowstick I am a toxic liquid broken by inadvertence and hidden under your bed so you don't see the memories I wrote all over your room when I broke open.
11. I am not alone under your bed. I am a broken glowstick and there's the twinkle of your smile lying beside me quietly, wondering when you will wear it again. It fits you. Just like I fit you.
12. Maybe the things that fit you all end up under your bed because you are afraid we suit you so well you wouldn't be able to remove us from you, we would become like ivy, climbing onto your walls and spreading all around, breaking through your window and intruding into your house like a disease.
13. I am not a disease.
14. I would wrap myself around you and cover you like a precious gift when darkness hits so you would understand you are my heart. I don't need to put you in a box or under my bed. I don't need to put you anywhere. I want to display you, show you off like something fancy I have no right to own and yet. Yet here you are.
15. You were my winning lottery ticket.
16. The moment you drove away, I realized the ticket sat on the empty seat beside you.
17. They announced the numbers on TV tonight, and as I sat here I could not remember what numbers I had chosen. Maybe I won. Maybe I didn't. But because you drove away, I'm afraid I will never know.
I don't understand how you went from floating around places in a country to supporting the weight of the world in another.
