I still remember that day that you put the right song on at the right time. I loved you then. It was after my dad had broken my heart for what seemed like the hundredth time. You were the last one I had to call. All my friends were hanging out with their boyfriends between sheets or dipping their toes in the ocean. You were an ocean that never let me see the bottom but I could feel your sand. You had so much to see I wanted to swim for days in you.
I wanted to play in your sheets. But you never let me in your room. Besides that one time but that was an exception to your rules. You’re fucking rules; all you had known was big textbooks and even bigger words. Sometimes I got lost in your vocabulary but mostly I got lost in your eyes and maybe your lips or your fingers bit. I got lost in you for a very long time.
That day you picked me up I was wearing blue pants. Yeah, blue men’s pants. My voice was shaking at first but calmed down right when I caught myself slipping. I didn’t want to cry in front of a boy I didn’t know. I’m not sure at that point if I would even call us friends. We were acquaintances who were just beginning. But you still picked me up with no questions asked in the middle of the day. Picked me up at my elementary school where I always seemed to run to when I was feeling too much.
I had been looking for you for a while. When the person I thought was the love of my life had shattered me like broken glass, driving into all my wounds, I searched the hallways. Every chance I got there I was peeking into all the open doors hoping to find someone new to love. And there you were right in front of me the whole time but closed shut. But you still listened to me, as my lock had been broken the day the doctor told me I was stuck. I was always crying.
I fell so fast. I wanted to be everything to you. Someone you would call to pick you up. But I loved you too much. Once you realized I was as crazy as the rest, someone who had to lay on a leather couch with a crystal flying around their head, you left. You took your music and all you’re witty comments about politics, science, and everything else you read in those giant books with you.
Maybe I was trying to change you; maybe I was trying to change myself. I had wandered around your thoughts and forgotten my own. But when I read your big speech for the day we would all leave I still cried, which was at that point no surprise. We were looking for something and couldn’t find it in each other.
But I want you to know that I am still here. Sitting at my computer trying to think of the words I’ll say to you if you ever came back. All I have is that I’ve been waiting and I still crave the way you held my hand while driving, your laugh when I missed your mouth trying to kiss and you said go again. I think one day I’ll write our story into an epic poem, into a bounded book, but for now I’m waiting.