Dear you

I know I said I wouldn't write again, not about you. But this is the real ending, this time.

And I can't help but think anything but this:

I can't imagine a world without you. It's as if someone told me that the world no longer had oceans, and that I needed to pretend there never had been any, all along. The world and its oceans. Something that just belongs in something else. Someone. Now, I'm just left wishing I'd sent out more messages in bottles, when I had the chance.

"Hello? Oh, there you are. I just wasn't sure if you were real."

Omega

I give you up.

It's time.

After all of this.

All of these crazy thoughts keyed here over the past year and a half.

I give you up.

I'm setting sail.

Maybe our paths will cross again someday.

I would like that. I hope that they do. I hope we will be friends forever.

Because you're the only one, despite how much you've caused me pain

You're the only one I have ever trusted on this level.

Because you caused me pain. Because you gave me the truth.

And because I didn't always open my mouth, but I opened my heart to you.

That doesn't even have to be in a romantic sense.

Just from one human to another, I opened my heart to you. In a way I've never done before.

I hope someday we will be a part of each others' lives.

You are the only one in my entire life who, when they said the words "you will be okay,"

the hurt subsided, and I took a breath, and I immediately believed them.

I trust you that deeply.

To know that you don't idly throw words around.

I believe everything you say to me on the deepest level I've ever known.

And if you tell me I'm going to be okay,

Then Okay. I will be.

You really are a unique fucking snowflake

I wish you were like everyone else. You were meant to be nothing more than that.
You were meant to be nothing more than a distraction.
I wish all the things I lightly noted about you at the first had never become meaningful.

The way your hair sticks out in the back.
The way your jacket smells.
The way the backs of your shoes are broken down but you keep stepping on them anyway, and the way your eyes sometimes look nervous when you're sitting in public.

You were meant to be like everyone else.

And isn't it strange, how all of those things,
things that you can take in in a glance when you first meet someone

All of those meaningless details can suddenly seem like the most important things in the world.

Like the way I laid behind you one night,
one arm draped around your waist
And I opened my eyes and just looked at you for a second

And that time, while your breathing was evening out
I noticed there was a little freckle behind your left ear
And I told myself, remember that there is a freckle there

Because there may never again be someone who could tell you that off the top of their head, without having to look

Like maybe they were all wrong, and it wasn't the devil but God who was in the details.

And every time we laid like that, after that night
and I opened my eyes and saw that freckle, I always smiled
like it was a secret I was sharing with myself

I might be the only one who ever has that freckle memorized.

And that is something that I can keep,
even when I'm alone.
Even when you're gone.

You were supposed to be like everyone else.
But you weren't.

I do know why I'm smiling

What the hell do I do? I know this is going nowhere. You're never going to let it really go somewhere because... because you just won't. Because I'm not the one, I guess. It's somebody else. And I flip flop, and sometimes it hurts, and sometimes I feel like I'd almost be relieved if you were gone so I wouldn't have to keep riding the rollercoaster. Sometimes I just don't know. But I'm so fucking tired of those moments where I'm laying there in your bed and I'm just thinking... Oh my god, I love you so much. It's the worst in the morning, when I first wake up. And I open my eyes right when you open your eyes and they're just so blue and so green and they're just so bright, and you just look so fucking beautiful, and I just want to reach out and wrap up tight in you and say I love you I love you I love you, good morning beautiful, I love you like I can feel the earth rotating around me. Except I can never say those stupid fucking things. And then you look at me and you say, why are you smiling? And what can I say to that? Not that. Not what I want to. So I just stop smiling, or try to, and say nothing, or I don't know. And kind of hurt like my whole body is aching. And I'm getting so used to it that it's just normal. And there probably will never be a day when I can just say that. Good morning beautiful, your eyes make me notice the earth turning. I'm so happy to be next to you. I could just look at you all day because there is literally nothing more beautiful to look at than you. There will never be a fucking day. It'll just go on like this forever until it stops. Nothing, I don't know why I'm smiling. I don't know.

I do fucking know.

Ow.

The sixth sense

And there's the sound of breathing. There's the sound of your laugh, short and breathless and sleepy. There's your eyes, crinkled at the corners, leaning in making a face at me. Lean in too, kiss that face. Kiss a cheek and a forehead. Rest a hand behind your head, cup the short black hair. Smooth it down. And there's the sound of silence, and a weight on my chest, and the vague thrumming of your heart beating through your chest, through your jacket, against me. Run a hand up your leg, penguin pajama bottoms. Up your side, softest skin I've ever touched. Pull you closer and hold on to you and hope you let me hold you at least for a moment. Breathe. And there's the smell of your jacket, and your skin and your hair and they're all different and I know them all so well. Breathe. And there's the sudden way my heart strains against my ribcage. Close my eyes. Press my face into your jacket. Breathe. Sharp, in my chest, almost like pain. Like joy. Like belonging somewhere, hoping to be allowed to feel that way, burning. And there's you.

And I never stopped

I still love you

The blocking words

We always talk. Talk, talk, talk. And sometimes we get closer to understanding, and sometimes we don't. And always there's a hole in my heart from the simple effort of not truly needing to say anything to you, except to say, to scream, to fall apart to the tune of the words: can't you see that I'm dying without you. I love you more than I could ever know to explain. I love you so much. Desperate.   Fucking empty. Take your time. Don't trust. But I'm dying here without you, and you're not really here because you won't let yourself be. I've been waiting on the edge of this cliff for you alone. And I need you now. I need you to come save me from this, or just stand next to me. I fucking love you so much.