I muttered “I don’t think I can be happy here”
but what I was really trying to say was
I don’t think I can be happy without you here.
without your smile.
without your voice. That’s what love is
an endless train of thoughts and wishes and ‘was it worth it?’s.
You are the ellipsis at the end of the sentence, but there’s no period
I don’t want one
Well I’m not a liar, I’m just sort of built that way
with half-truths hidden in the little gaps between my teeth
and all the other places you forgot to check.
I am not so easy to forget
so you won’t see me in the afternoons because we used to fuck then
or maybe we held hands or whispered promises
that you’re terrified to keep.
Pain has a rhythm like a heartbeat
I’m writing trying to keep time with yours but I guess my words get ahead of me
maybe you’re too slow.
I wanted to tell you that you’re not going anywhere because I’m holding your heart
with the same hands that wrapped themselves
around your length and told you to make noise for me.
When you were fourteen smiles never reached your eyes
but when you thread your fingers through my hair they do.
Funny how time works like that.
Take a risk, get a reward or maybe just a dose of a new kind of medication
the one you didn’t ask for and never needed. You are afraid
because new things are scary, but old things with new people are even more
when heartbreak isn’t an option with the girl you wanted forever.
I’ll read a couple of books in the airport that remind me of how
‘you don’t miss me’. I’ll kiss you for every lie you’ve ever told me,
twice for the big ones
and then they won’t seem so bad.
You press your hipbones into the palms of my hands and smile
because I’ve always been fascinated with them and you like my curious eyes.
There’s that saying about the cat, you know,
but I’m willing to take that chance when it comes to your body parts.
I’ll wait for you to fall into me with frantic apologies
-they’ll never come, but it’s worth the wait anyhow-
then I’ll think back on the bruises in the contours of my chest and laugh.
What was I thinking, being mad at you?
You can’t cut attraction when the chord I used was our heartstrings
I thought they were something pretty.
I paint myself with words because words are easier to understand than colors,
and you said my abstract-art way of thinking was hard to comprehend
so I wrote you a love song with my stretched out legs
made a sonnet out of my hair and
a haiku with my fingernails. Because my words have a better way of explaining than I do
that it’s not just the way you feel against my skin that I’ll miss,
but the way you make the sun rise by opening your eyelids and the stars shine
by kissing mine. Somehow you make my heart beat fast and slow simultaneously,
and I’ll miss that too.
I’ll miss the way you say “I love you” and how that makes
me smile and lights my insides on fire.
You are you and I crave that unique way you make me feel wonderful
every second of every minute of every day.
There’s no period at the end of the sentence because I will never say goodbye, just
“until next time”
or
“I’ll see you later”
those fit better
I know I am redundant, but I will miss you when you are gone
with the same intensity that I love you
“more than you’ll ever know.”
