you’re on my living room couch and in my dining room.
your hands are on my hips, combing my hair, and holding me as I cry.
your voice echos in my room, at my favorite bookstores, at every coffee shop;
you’re leaning on the kitchen counter sipping coffee from one of my mother’s favorite mugs,
you’re playing video games with my father and taking photos of me with a disposable camera.
you’re snapping at me for something stupid I said, you’re crying as you admit your mistakes;
you aren’t remorseful as you snap my heart in two, until you are, and then everything is fine.
we laugh as we’re falling apart, and coming back together.
we’re quiet as we fall apart and drift — until we drift back together again.
we’re intertwined on your bed, our voices whispering sappy nothings.
we hold hands as we walk through our childhood home, and proclaim we own the whole damn city.
we hold each other in the back of my uncle’s truck as I sob in your arms, and you assure me everything will be okay again.
we talk about the future like we’ll be there together — then we drop our plans at the slightest bump in the road, only to talk about new ones barely a week later.
we resent one another for how serious we’ve had to become;
we try to relearn how to trust the other, but you won’t help me learn.
I feel as though we could make it work, although I’m not sure you think the same.
I want to hold onto this because I’ve never felt so comfortable around another person in my entire life.
I don’t always understand you; that’s okay.
I remember how it felt to have you here and I remember little things I fear I’ll never forget about you.
I would let go of all my worries, for you, if I could; I would walk a thousand miles to see you.
I miss telling you sappy things, I miss being able to tell you how I feel.
I see your shadow as we stand outside; I’m crying and lamenting:
“I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”
you tell me not to worry, that it won’t be,
“we’ll see each other again. two months. I promise.”
I somehow don’t think you’ll be up to following through with that promise.
I wish you would.