I met someone new,

and I've been lingering in

the feelings I felt with you;

Overwhelming tepidity,

Frequent uncertainty,

Occasional despair.

I try to convince myself

that this is the life I want.

That he is someone I could love.

I tell it to him, over and over,

I love you! I love you.

I love you- I love you

I don't, I won't,

and probably never will.

But he lives in a big house on a hill,

His mom is kind

when I come over for dinner.

We sit on his plaid bedsheets

and the stability is comfortable.

But it is not happiness.

I can hear it in his voice too,

trying to convince himself

I'm the only one he's ever wanted.

We lay naked on the floor

and both contemplate what it means

that we found someone

we were never looking for.

It all feels heavy, all at once;

It comes and goes, but lately it stays a bit longer.

The fear of the unfamiliar dawns on me,

I am scared to face these infant days.

I relapse into what feels the most customary-

A small flower cup you gave me,

cradled in my hands;

One of the only things I have left of you.

Not every poem is about you, but this one is.

There are things I'd love to tell you-

How discouraging it felt to have

a job I thought I wanted, to think it would fix it all-

But it didn't. And how even my

successes feel like failures most days.

I'd love to tell you I got a promotion

At the job I only just started;

I changed rooms- I have sunlight every morning.

If we were still friends, I'd tell you about

The things I hated, things I don't hate anymore.

The taste of alcohol, sushi, coffee in the mornings.

I'd tell you about the sunroof in my car,

The tattoo that no one knows about.

I'd tell you I still love you, not knowing if I mean it.

I can't tell if I miss you or if I just miss

the feeling of not being a stranger to someone.

A cup of coffee to start my morning off;

I never drank coffee, you would know that.

But I drown out the taste with 3 creams

And five sugars, anything to feel awake.

I'd be proud of me- if I could see past the

Nights I cry myself to sleep, drowning in tears;

Or the uncertainty of my future,

Crippling me, until I am left with few choices.

To move forward and become someone new,

Or to hold on to the parts of me you loved.

Some days I revel in the thought

That if we met again- I'd be a stranger.

Most days it doesn't feel like a bad thing.

The way you love hurts-

Deeper than any scar

I've ever healed from,

Sharper than any

knife pulled from my back.

I love you with my all,

with my heart and soul,

I have never loved anyone less,

or anyone more.

The perfect catalyst for aching;

That is why this terrifies me-

I lost so much of myself finding you,

Started from scratch, pulled a new me

From all the old pieces leftover;

I would lose it all again to keep you.

All of myself,

I've given all of myself to you.

Now I am simply begging you

to be gentle,

Hold me like I mean more than I do.

The way you love hurts-

It's more than I've felt in a long time.

I spent the whole day missing you,

Laying in bed with a heartthrob and a sore throat;

24 hours and 12 minutes since I last saw your face,

And yet it seems like all of existence

Has stopped to acknowledge your absence.

I miss you, delirious with fever, I miss you,

More than I miss the lack of pain.

You are the air I breathe,

the sun warming my skin- and this?

This is just withdrawal.

This is what it will feel like,

every time you say goodbye

If I was still there

You'd still be biting your nails

And doing your hair how I liked,

Staring at me across the

room until I broke character;

You'd still squeeze my hand

When songs about love played,

Thinking, hoping, I was the one;

The love of your life.

And I only stayed because

I was content with being someone's somebody.

This subpar love stretched thin

Until the fibers of my skin wore down,

Until my heart was throbbing for a real love,

Something I had hardly known,

Never longed for and barely cared about.

You were my nobody,

And I was content being your everything.

I stopped writing poems-

Why'd I stop writing?

Does it scare me that I'll still miss who I was

When you held me close to your heart?

I have never been more content, more happy,

Yet something stirs inside me-

Begging me to ask you how you are.

Has life been treating you well?

Do you miss me?

Does the unfamiliarity of who you are without me

Scare you like it scares me?

I will never be entire without you,

Always missing the pieces

Of me you stole and kept in your back pocket.

I am not allowed to miss you,

Cannot let myself need you-

The way I have for so long.

I must let other hands fill the places

You left empty and loveless.

I hope you are well.

I hope you are happy.

And when you are lonely,

I hope you remember the smile you planted,

New joys and pains have

filled the place it once occupied.

Slowly I will become whole again,

And one day I can boast of how

I survived the end

of the only world I ever knew.

I wanted so badly

for you to be my childhood sweetheart,

Someone I had always known and loved

And known I would love;

I wanted so badly to know you

All the ways she did,

Freely, between the years of youth

Spent chasing dreams and ambitions.

I am tired now,

My head feels heavy when I wake up;

I can barely make it through half a day.

I wish I could give you the kind of love

I gave to my sophomore fixation.

I feel like I'm losing it,

Sitting in my car after work

Music loud enough to drown

Out the noise of the past week;

I still see you in everything-

A plethora of ghosts

Following my every move,

They blame me and I deserve it.

I deserve every late night

Spent staring at the ceiling,

Feeling like

If I stop forcing the breaths out

They might just stop coming

Altogether.

I sleep with your sweater on my chest

And imagine holding you slowly, carefully.

You are the best of me-

The way I laugh until it hurts,

A smile that comes out when I see you,

The softest spots of my soul.

You love the worst of me-

The way I fall too fast,

Stubborn loving, no room to breathe,

The selfish longing to be wanted,

But not too much and not too little.

You never said it,

Never admitted you cared;

Only traced the curves of my loneliness,

Held me like I was fragile and priceless and yours