just for you

the worst part about grief is that it feels like the world should be horrendously earth shatteringly changed, and to an extent it IS but its also the same. to everyone else it's just another tuesday. the world moves on. you have to go grocery shopping.

falling in love for the first time as a teenager was so beautiful and strange. if i meet them after decades i could recognize them just by looking at their hand; but i don’t ever want to meet them again because they remind me of a time i’d like to forget. we never kissed or embraced but that doesn’t matter for i clearly remember how we would high-five, make each other laugh, sit close to each other on the bus, brush against each other, talk non-stop and just how fucking happy they made me. i remember the way they adjusted their glasses, the shape of their lips, the way they’d stare out of the bus window lost in their own world of science and math and magic. but they don’t even remember my fucking birthday. i’ve spent hundreds of hours wishing they’d kiss me but if they actually did i’d probably mumble a sorry and sprint away. i want them to want me- but i don’t actually, i want to be with them- but i’d probably break up a week in. i’ve liked a dozen guys and half a dozen girls and more since i was a wee little kid in kindergarten but the only childhood love i’ll ever remember is them. and darling, if you’ve read this- don’t ever talk to me again. i can’t bear you knowing i have loved you like this.

I want to know your coffee order and your favorite shops. I want to know your favorite month and why. I want you to tell me about the books that changed you and the music that kept you alive. I want to know which side of the bed you like best. I want to know the lines of poems that give you chills and which shade of the sky makes you feel at peace. I want to know the people and places you call home. I want to know if you like the crust on your sandwiches. I want to know if you pour too much sugar in your tea. I want to know if you feel the same way about me.

you taught me love, and to you: i am so sorry you weren’t the one i could share it with