I Haven’t Stopped Thinking About You
As you were leaving you asked if there was anything else I wanted to tell you. I said no. There are times I have so much to say I can feel it crawling up my throat but nothing comes out.
I wanted to tell you we’ve known each other eighteen months and I haven’t stopped thinking of you since. I felt light the accidental night I met you and there was something hazing where I should’ve known nothing would be the same. My eyes had given up only days before and motions were the very least I could manage. There were moments during I remember but am trying my best to forget. I am not lying to myself, I know you weren’t thinking of me. I know you weren’t documenting the movements of how our bodies walked down the alleys. We were short and hidden, silent and decorated. A simple shortcut to get you where you wanted to be.
I wanted to tell you the only drink you ever bought me was a gin and tonic. It was something clear and simple where I should’ve used my context clues. One night I was looking at you through an empty glass. My head was on the table while trying to complete an essay. I thought about how clear the glass was, but still distorted your body. Clarity was not at the bottom and was something you stopped offering me. There were perspectives all around but I chose the only one that looked at you. My choice to leave was set in the glass long before we met. The broken pieces gave me more space and I never once looked for you to repair it. And up until that moment, I was never looking for you.
I wanted to tell you that I don’t sleep very well, but my favorite time of day is the morning. There is comfort in the crack of darkness when it starts to uncover the sky. The warm hues slowly creep inside the soft hearts of lovers. My heart was always soft, an easy target for laughter and unmade beds. It will always be an easy target because I refuse to stop feeling no matter how hard it is. I felt betrayed when you cut me from your life and only came to me when you needed help. I wanted to tell you my chest got tight but it did not harden. It will not harden because that’s what living is. It’s trying and doing and hoping for the best because there always has to be one. I wanted to tell you, at night, stars are stars. They don’t need to be anything else, but there are plenty times when I really want them to be. The night was warm when we sat on my sidewalk while I made the stars silly poems for us. We were both too drunk for rhyming but we created whatever we could think of.
I wanted to tell you there’s no use in isolating moments, so I no longer will.