i watched you walk home that day.
through the window,
i saw the clouds open
and the sun turned your skin to gold,
as if an angel in the sky wanted
to watch you with me.
because you’re the only one that’s there,
you’re the only one that matters.
at least that’s how i always saw it—
but you had to go home someday.
that, i’ve always known.
but seeing it coming doesn’t
soothe the ache or fill the emptiness.
i thought loving was supposed to be easy;
i thought this was supposed to be easy.
even as you’re leaving,
and it feels like you’re not going anywhere,
but you are.
you’re going home.
i was supposed to be home.
the holding and hugging,
the good mornings and good nights,
and the days we stayed up and they blurred together.
but this is a dream, a nightmare,
and you’re drifting, floating
and i’m running, panting,
but i can’t stop to breathe because that burns more.
you stopped to smell the roses that day,
and i wish i was there to smell them with you.
i’d pick one and try to put it in your hair,
but you were always the romantic one,
and i’ve always been awkward with these things—
and that’s how i knew it was coming.
that this was coming.
that i’d lose you and half of myself
as you faded into the distance,
so without you with me,
i was dropped into a world of people i’ve never seen,
never wanted to see,
still don’t want to see—
i want to be alone,
but only if you’re there with me—
just one more time so i won’t forget or remember wrong.
how could i ever remember you wrong?
how could i ever let myself remember you wrong?
as anything less than perfect
and i never knew what you wanted
or needed me to be,
but i was ready to be it anyway;
i am ready to be it anyway.
heartbreak sounds like nails on a chalkboard,
clawing through the blackness to only see more of it,
like a moth flying too close to the flame,
too consumed by light to notice its own wings burning,
but this is not fire, it’s ice.
this doesn’t burn.
it’s a silent pain,
a quiet thief who is gone before you can see them,
or maybe you did see them
and let them go anyway.
i know you had to see them
because love is not blind;
you fall with your eyes wide open.
seeing, breathing, being,
and you fall anyway.
i fell anyway.
and as i got closer to the surface,
as the wind watched me fly through,
i saw you:
toes still on the ledge,
smile on your face,
and rose in hand.
and even then,
even on that day,
i told you to get home safe.
written on march 2-3, 2020.
run-time: 2 minutes, 50 seconds