To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop writing poems about you, but I imagine it’ll be the moment you stop reaching for your car keys when she tells you she loves you.
endings. breakups, deaths, ghostings, disappearances, us. nothing ends poetically. things end and then we dress our loneliness with fancy words and the prettiest colors. endings are not poetic. they seem poetic. but they were just red.
You cared too much, and you always had a way of seeing past my facade. You’re a lover, so you feel what others feel.
Send a text. Ask them how they’re doing. Tell them you miss their face and their presence. Sometimes a text as simple as “Hey, I miss you” means the world to me when I’m going through a hard time.
There was just something about us.