The sweetest kiwis I ever tasted
There were two for you. Two for me.
The kiwis I never got to share with you
Sat in a bowl, sliced open by my sister.
I intended to let them rot in the fridge,
But she found them and fed some to her daughter.
I didn’t know looking at fruit could hurt
Until I watched the amount of kiwi left decrease.
Maybe I looked as hurt as I felt because
She turned and fed some to me.
Notes App Message #1: 17 Seconds Away
It is unnecessary to send this to you because it’s enough to know my intentions. I won’t send this, but know I mean every word with all that I am.
Let our memories of each other be enough to convince us that this distance is good, because it is. Every single second I spent with you has never fallen short of perfect. I will believe in myself more, live my life for me while you live your life for you, and if we are in the future, you will be welcomed by a me who is better suited for you— for friendship or more.
There are things I want to say, but I will say at least this for now.
17 seconds or thousands of miles away.
I understand unless I don’t. Though… surely, I will see you around.
If it’s meant to be, we’ll cross paths again. I pray to God, let it be a time we’re ready and more willing. If not, the respect and love I have will always be there in the space made especially made for you. It’s been something more than beautiful: the experience of sharing time together.
All I gave, I gave freely. You owe me nothing. But I owe you this: I’m so sorry.
From my heart and whole being to you, [name], [inside joke nickname], [actual nickname], future small claims judge, future owner of a bookstore-marijuana-dispensary-hole-in-the-wall-pizza-place, certified Mt. Cleverest climber (with your awful puns, but mine were always worse), wonderful and terrible human being, my dear, my friend, my dear friend, thank you.
Thank you for everything.
It is to be thankful until it doesn’t hurt anymore
And to be thankful even after then.
Post 150: To You, Memories of an Old Friend
I want to stay.
I’ll walk away,
But this book’s
Just in case.
11AM Thoughts: Early Childhood Trauma
I’m at this point where I’m questioning if the reason why I’m so hurt isn’t necessarily because of how you said you would let me know and then didn’t,
But because of how closely it resembled my dad telling me he’d come back and never did.
Your name repeats in my head
In sync with my heartbeat
Throbbing in my neck
In this room
He places his palm on the side of my face
Runs his other hand down my waist
My mind is mostly blank
I have but one thought:
No where else, not in another place,
Can I melt and mold and create
Like I do in this little room today.
He places his tent inside my brain
Setting a fire never doused by rain
Paying his rent with words and gestures
I let him in willingly
I’ll take the pain, the weight of the wait.
He can stay. He can stay
Like I do in this little room today.
Choking back tears
By shoving three spoonfuls of
orange-flavored Jell-O into my mouth
Was a talent I didn’t know I had until
I did it in an ICU room while
Watching my grandma die.
She was a little mean, but the last
Thing she told me before she lost her words
Was that she left me $20 in my car for gas.
She was a little selfish, but when I was a child,
She would hand-feed me rice and fried eggs to
Make sure I never went to bed with an empty
I love and miss her very much, that woman.
The least I could do for her in a room
Full of family already mourning
Her impending death was to not
Let her hear me cry.
On an afternoon in the middle of January, I’m glad I kissed her forehead.
I’m glad I told her, “See you tomorrow.”
Maybe that was comfort enough.
She died hours later.
Her hand was still warm when I arrived that night.
Her face relaxed and
I held in most tears, shoving them into
The black hole that consumed
All my other neglected emotions
But what that resulted in was my inability
To grieve for her properly
And my inability to
Eat orange-flavored Jell-O the same way again.
I Think I Should Ask
Do you mean for me to wait for you?
Say yes and I will.
Say no and I still might.