i keep the phone beside me,
waiting for the words i will not name.
the little confession, the sudden ring.
i imagine your voice in the dark,
something tender enough to prove you have felt my absence too.
nothing comes.
still, i listen for you
before morning does.
whenever i hear a song while i'm with someone, that song becomes “theirs” in my head. doesn't matter if i've never heard it before or if i've listened to it a 100times. every time it then comes on, all i can think about is them and that specific moment, is this a universal thing?
i thought maybe
another city could hold
what i couldn't carry anymore.
but boston only proved
that grief travels light.
it fit neatly in my suitcase,
sat beside me on the train,
and followed me home.
on my walk home
i found a sunflower.
inside it,
a conversation
from when we were still
learning each other’s edges.
i took a photograph, it reminded me of you.
some things wilt.
others wait
inside the first yellow thing
that remembers them.
i guess you can see if someone you blocked left you a vm, and i just saw someone did like 3-4 months ago nothing was said in it. but the fact. THE FACT. I WAS EVEN CALLED?? IM GAGGED.
we used to speak
like the tide
soft,
without trying.
now you're
only a train ride away,
but somehow
an ocean,
a constellation.
close enough
to see,
too far
to touch.
and every quiet night
i wonder
if i still
wash ashore
in your thoughts.