Strangers

I don’t make new friends.
I’m wrapped up in my old cocoon.
I don’t let people in.
And when I do, it just hurts.
It’s my cocoon.
You don’t fit.

That Place

There’s a place in my head where you love me.
In that place, it is dark; you are warm.
We are lost in a haze, and we’ll be here for days ‘til you’re gone.
You are gone.
You are gone.

There’s a place in my heart where you’re living.
In that place, it is dark; you are warm.
You are wrapped up in me, and my love runs free ‘til you’re gone.
You are gone.
You are gone.

It was I that flew far away, and it’s you who’s in my heart to stay.
But you stayed behind, and I’m out of your sight.
Oh, how I wish we’d had time…

How Quickly

I remember when we told each other everything.

Now I literally second-guess every single word you say to me.

…I think I was naive to think you ever told me everything.

It's a Trap!

I’m still gun-shy.
I know I was relieved, but I don’t know quite what you meant. 
I don’t know what you want.
Everything is still ambiguous.
Breathe.
Don’t talk too much.

The Past

I have this weird thing about days and months and seasons…

When I know something happened a year ago on this day or in this month or during this period of time, it’s like I can reach across a dimension and run my fingers through events of the past.

I feel like I’m looking through one of those double-sided mirrors at my old self. It’s pretty disconcerting. Sometimes it’s like she’s looking right back at me, even though I know she can’t see me.

I mostly just want to tell her, “I’m sorry.”

Goodbye

When it’s time to go, you anticipate drama.
You put up a wall, hoping to keep yourself safe.
You don’t understand that the drama comes from the wall.
You don’t understand that you get cold and make it feel like I could possibly never see you again, which would be just fine by you.
You don’t understand that you are the drama.
When it’s time to go, you give me a quick half-hug with the condescending pat, and an embarrassing peck.
When you kiss me goodbye, I wonder why we even saw each other.

When it’s time to go, he doesn’t anticipate drama.
His wall comes down.
He understands that this is the time to let me know if he wants to see me again.
He understands that he could possibly never see me again, which would kinda suck.
He understands the situation.
When it’s time to go, he holds me close and kisses me with more passion than I’ve felt from you in years.
When he kisses me goodbye, I miss him already.

Be Still, My Beating Heart

I felt so alive once. When I try to picture the last moment that you pumped the spark of life through my veins, the only image I get is sitting on blacktop, looking at the stars. The same summer I started calling you Batman. What a pathetically long time ago that was. Have I felt dead ever since then? At least since that nickname died.

I dreaded this for years. I knew the spark of life had faded to a deadly sludge inside of me, but letting you go wasn’t just terrifying, it was impossible. I suppose the only way it was ever going to happen was if you killed me. And that you did. You squeezed out every ounce of will to live I ever had.

I don’t know when the moment was exactly, but I let you go. I reached out to touch you a few times, and maybe I still will, just to make sure you’re still there, that I didn’t dream the whole thing.

I thought I would have to wait for you to fade, but you’re already not here. I am amazed how easily I can ignore the thoughts of you that linger in the corners. I am amazed that my chest feels lighter than it has in three years.

I miss you. I do. And I love you. Always. But we have finally died. The heart I had that was full of you, it has finally stopped beating. And the death, the dark sludge, it has finally stopped pumping.

I feel more alive now, with this still heart, than I have in a long time. I know in time that I will rise, my heart will beat again. But for now, I enjoy the stillness.

Sometimes it feels like
I only have bad things to remember.
Aren't memories supposed to make you smile
at least some of the time?

I can remember loving you
I think...
I remember loving you
but I don't remember what loving you feels like.

I sift through a decade trying to recall even a single moment
where I felt loved
unconditionally safe
where I was sure.
But I can only feel empty
the emptiness only something that was once full can feel.

When I think of you I can only feel
sick and desperate and lost
and afraid.
But I think you filled my heart once
I think when we used to sit on the blacktop and look at the stars
I think when the feeling of your hands on me was new
I think maybe I smiled once...

But it was all laced with fear.

Every last moment.

Letting Go

How do you let almost half of your life go? A tiny bit every day… Possibly forever…