3:00 AM

I used to like the pain,
now I want anything to numb it.
These days have passed by so quickly,
yet they seem to last so long.

I haven’t talked to you in quite some time now.
Finality has a weird kind of ring to it.
I can’t forget your smile,
but his has got me hooked.

No need for sorry - I’ve forgiven you already.
You’re out of sight, but remain at the edges of my mind.
You rest in regret, while I rest in relief.
I’ll be sure to send my love through silence.

written June 7, 2017.

Another "Morning After"

I can barely open my eyes.
Do I even want to?
Regret has spilled onto the sheets,
and sorrow has seeped into my pillow.

When you left this morning, 
I hope you took all of my feelings with you,
but I’m sure that you dismissed them,
because you do the same to yours.

I don’t know how we came to this point,
where we keep giving and giving, just to have nothing at all. 
Maybe we like watering what died a long time ago.
Maybe it’s because we hate the sound of goodbye.

written January 16, 2017.

The One Who Got Away

I’m supposed to be studying… 
I’m nervous. 
I’m scared. 
Normally I’d call you and explain why,
but that’s just not an option. 

I went from crying to you to crying over you.
I want to tell you that I miss you, 
but that’d be a waste of words. 
Today I have a final for that really hard class I told you about,
but I’m on the couch typing this poem. 

You always do that to me:
Overtake my thoughts. 
You invade my emotional space and diminish other things of importance.
I’ve got to get these problems right,
but I wish that I could make things right with you. 

And I hope that as I type this, 
you’re in your bed looking at the spot I used to lay. 
I hope that your arms and legs don’t feel the same
since mine aren’t tangled in between them. 

And maybe you feel just as dazed and out of place as I do. 
I sure hope so.
And maybe, for the first time, you know what it feels like
to have “the one who got away.”

written August 17, 2016.

(Love) Story

I begin to string words together just to delete them.
These sentences will never do my feelings justice,
so I’m unsure of why I try.

When your heart mourns the loss of someone
who hasn’t passed
but your time with them has,
there’s not much that you can say.

I erase your number from my phone
just to put it right back in.
I’ve dug up a picture from the spring.
I look at it as a means to retrieve a time
where letting you go wasn’t an option.

I never would have thought we’d end up here.
But we can go a lot farther, you know.
You can overcome your fears
and I’ll be here to see it unfold every step of the way.
Only if you want to, though…

But you won’t.
And you don’t.
So I reluctantly say goodbye to the thought of us,
because for you I guess there never really was one. 

It would make too much sense
to be with the woman that makes you happy.
You like our story,
just not the part about love.

written July 20, 2016.

When I Saw You

I passed by you today. 
It was swift and unsettling.
I can imagine that it seemed
as if a train raced down the rails.

You didn’t see me,
but I know you felt me,
because you paused shortly after
life led my feet the other way. 

I glanced back quickly,
to see you standing amidst 
bodies bouncing off of one another.
You swayed rhythmically with the chaos
as if the madness made you feel at home. 

I turned around right before
a single tear slipped down your cheek. 
My timing was perfect. 
We weren’t supposed to cross paths today.
It’s a wonder why we did.

And had I stayed longer,
you would’ve been able to tell
that your tear was matching mine. 

written July 12, 2016.