Hey, Peter Parker

Summer is hot.
Sweat drips down my face.
The air shimmers above the pavement.
Runs feel longer.
The street throws heat back at me.

Texas Summers are about surviving.
They say it builds strong legs for Texas winters.
Sometimes I don't know where summer ends.
Summer is temporary.

Fall arrives quietly.
Tanks stay in rotation.
Even the leaves know how to let go.
Run.
Crunch.
Run.
Crunch.
Red, orange, brown, maroon.
The ground covered in reminders that nothing stays green.
Fall is temporary.

Winter brings joy.
Even if you aren't here.
Bundled in layers,
that come off by noon.
Even comfort doesn’t stay.
The morning cold reddens my nose.
The afternoon sun reminds me where I live.
For a little while, I forget what is missing.
Winter is temporary.

Spring brings flowers.
Fiesta fills the city.
Music spills into the streets.
Crowds gather where memories wait for me.
Yet I find myself running from those places.
A season that once brought such joy
now arrives carrying your name.
The dance floor carries the memory of my mistakes.
I tell myself this will pass too.

But Spring is...
lasting.
Not the season.
The ache.
The way your absence blooms again
with the wildflowers.
The way I still look for you
in places I know you won't be.

Nothing about you was ever temporary.
I would have spent the rest of my life
learning you.
Learning the stories you hadn't told yet.
The versions of you that hadn't arrived.
Watching the seasons change beside you.

The moon never truly vanishes,
but your light has disappeared from me.

Like the phases of the moon, I had all of you
then pieces, now nothing in the sky.

I’ve grown used to the darkness
settling into my days.

Still, I find you everywhere.

A show you’d watch.
An actress you love.
A joke that would steal your laugh.

For a moment, the night softens.
I feel peace in the dark.

Then I remember.

Your light is gone,
the light that taught my world to glow.

I search for substitutes,
different stars, different suns,

but nothing shines
like the moon.
Nothing holds my gaze.

I ache to circle you again,
to belong to your orbit,

but how do you find the moon
when it no longer pulls your tide?

How do you find someone
who does not wish to be found?

If wishing changed anything,
I would spend every falling star on you.

I still do.

The thing about the moon

even hidden,
it is never gone.

It hangs above another horizon,
casting light on someone else’s sea.

And I…

I would search forever.

Hands shaking.
Eyes on an empty sky.

Not because you’ll return,
but because moonlight changes you,
darkness never feels whole again.

Your light is admired by many.
I mistook it for mine.

Once, I thought I was special enough
to be pulled by it alone.
That its gravity only belonged to my waves.

Once, I believed I was home.

Now others trace the paths
I knew by heart.
Others stand where I stood.

And while they
marvel
at your glow

I remain on Earth

searching the sky for a moon that shines beautifully without ever knowing how dark it became and I stop looking up

I will no longer reach for what lives above me

I stand in darkness on land.

Night does not need the moon to be night.

You must sleep better
without my questions,
my overthinking,
my need to understand
what you never wanted to explain.

A weight lifted off your chest,
happiness spilling into your days.
A quiet I could never give you.

Maybe there’s a pep in your step now,
no time wasted reassuring me,
no weight of my love
asking anything from you.

Time must feel unlimited now.
Space must feel clean.

And now you’re free…
free to date,
free to forget,
free to become someone
I don’t have to know anymore.

I’m sorry if I was too much…
but I was only ever trying
to love you fully.

I didn’t know
how to be anything less.

And maybe that wasn’t the problem.

You’re the moon.
I’m an astronaut.

For months, I admired you
from a distance,
learning how to reach you,
studying the pieces
that made you glow.

I wondered,
would I ever be worthy
to be in your orbit?

Then, finally,
you let me near.

And God,
you were beautiful.

I always knew you were,
but now,
you were seen.

Beyond the surface,
there was so much more,
so much depth,
so much quiet complexity.

And somehow,
the closer I got,
the more I loved you.

It was the peculiar things,
the parts others might miss,
that made you
stunning.

That I admired.

That I loved.

The parts I was lucky
to witness,
this close,
if only for a moment,
walking your surface.

But astronauts
can’t live in space forever.

Oxygen runs low.
The body remembers
it was made for earth.

So I came back down… 
unwillingly.

Knowing I have to let you go,
because I can’t keep holding on…
even if I want to live in space forever.

And now,
from here,
you seem far away again.

Still bright.
Still beautiful.
Still something I look for
in the dark.

But no longer mine.
I was just a visitor
in your orbit.

I still see you…
the beauty,
the light.

I still admire.

And I’ll keep my distance…
because I have to.

But if you ever called me back,
if you ever wanted me near again,

I’d learn the stars
all over again…

just to see
if I could find my way to you.

So when I say,
“Look at the moon!”

as I step closer to goodbye.
Because you’re a stranger now
not even a distant memory,
just someone I still talk to
who doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

No feeling.
No warmth.
Just words that fall flat between us,
like we’re both pretending
this isn’t already over.

Or maybe it’s just me…

Pretending to still know you.

You already belong to someone else.

It all feels rehearsed.
Like something you get through
not something you want.

Is it a chore?

Because even your chores
still get your time,
your effort…
and I can’t even get that anymore.

Those who know of us

tell me to stop chasing,

They say I deserve someone

who doesn’t let go so easily.

Which is ironic…

because you said those same words to me

not too long ago.

I think I’ve known
for a while now
there’s no place for me
in your life.

But somehow
I keep reaching anyway.

Keep trying to fit
into a space
that’s already closed.

And I don’t know what hurts more
losing you…

or realizing
you don’t feel the loss at all.

So I sit here with it,
this quiet, constant question

I’ve forgotten how to swim.
My body tries to remember,
thrashing, clawing at the surface.

Because the burn in my lungs,
the tearing in my chest,
is better
than sinking into nothing.

Somewhere in me,
I know how this ends.
But I still fight it.

My soul wears thinner
each day you drift farther away.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her,
the girl who once loved me.
And in those moments,
I break the surface.

Gasp.

Gasp.

Gasp.

I try to memorize your eyes,
that softness once meant for me.
The curve of your smile,
rare now,
once effortless in my presence.

The drowning pauses.
Air rushes in, sharp, unfamiliar,
after months underwater.

For a second, I feel whole again.

Like I made it out.
Like I survived you.

Then something shifts,
your eyes go distant and cold,
the smile fades to nothing, and just like that,
the ocean pulls me under again.

Gasping
but the air won’t stay.
Reaching
but there’s nothing to hold.

I sink faster this time.

It’s darker here.
Colder.
Quieter.

I plead for anything,
a hand, a word, a sign,
anything that says I still matter.

But there’s nothing.

No pull.
No light.
No you.

Sink.
Drown.

The silence is what takes me under.
Water fills my lungs… slow, unforgiving.
Memories replay on the surface,
soft, glowing, just out of reach,

and I hate that I’m still reaching,
even now.

My dear heart, why do you ask me to replay these stories?

I try to harden you, building walls… quarries.

Yet you cling to a memory, a whisper of the past.

That tightness in your chest you know it’s going to last.

I know it lasts, but the feelings stay the same.

No amount of medication stops me from calling her name.

It’s the absence of her love that makes me break,

I feel it in my chest this lasting ache…

But brain, you’re weak too… especially at night,

drowning in dreams of her, wishing she’d fight.

You wake me up frantic, dreams tie me in knots,

wondering if we’re still worth her thoughts.

Broken and hurt, I question our existence.

Goddamn, I hate this fucking distance.

Was it real? Was it a lie?

Would she even be sad to see me die?

I try to find logic in why we had to end.

We acted impulsively… foolish, my friend.

I wish I could have one more talk with the version of her who loved us so much.

I wish I could hold her, feel her touch.

I’d bury my nose in the scent I miss,

lean in close and steal one last kiss.

Try to capture the moment, make it never end,

let the world disappear… just me and my girlfriend.

But that version of her has been gone so long.

Heart keeps saying this is all so wrong.

As brain I’ve accepted… I know this is real,

but heart… don’t be stupid, you can’t seem to heal.

Because why should I heal from the one we loved most?

Brain takes pity: “You’re chasing a ghost.

And ghosts don’t stay, they don’t choose, they don’t try.

So stop reaching for shadows… heart, you already know, this is goodbye.”

But the pity is for you, my dear brain.

For love withstands both time and pain.

It gives and it takes, demands effort and care,

two souls once apart by distance, yet destined and rare.

Because when all is said, they tell us to believe,

to wear your heart open… even if it means watching them leave.

See, brain… you’re all logic, numbers, and fact,

but heart I am passion and hope… I attract.

For love is patient, humble, and kind,

and when two souls meet, their lives become twined.

So no… it’s not goodbye, not the kind you’re trying to make it be.

Some things don’t end cleanly, they just live quietly in memory.

Maybe it’s distance. Maybe it’s time out of tune.

But I won’t call it the end…just a soft see you soon.

So don’t forget me… that’s what heart will say.

I won’t beg for you, I won’t ask you to stay.

Because like a ghost, love lingers unseen,

not gone… just somewhere in between.

And maybe we never find our way back soon…
but we’ll still share the same sky, the same moon.

“That means nothing,” brain will say.
“It changes nothing… we’re still worlds away.”

“At least the Spurs are in the playoffs.”

That’s what I’d say.

Something simple. Reliable.

Something that never left.

The winningest franchise.

My safe place.

As a kid, I’d lose myself in them…

an escape from everything I didn’t understand yet.

“At least the Spurs are in the playoffs.”

Then life got heavier.

College. Anxiety.

But the ball movement evolved. The best we’ve seen.

2013 hurt,

Tears were shed…

But 2014 made it all feel worth it.

The greatest redemption in basketball history.

“At least the Spurs are in the playoffs.”

Timmy retired. The Big Fundamental gone.

But we had Kawhi.

Tony and Manu too.

We’ll be okay.

We’re always okay.

“At least the Spurs are in the playoffs.”

What do you mean Kawhi wants out?

Tony is leaving too?

This doesn’t happen here.

We don’t fall apart here.

They don’t leave.

Not the Spurs.

Not the things I believe in.

“At least the Spurs are in the playoffs.”

Seven games. That’s all it took.

Everything poured into it.

And then… nothing.

No playoffs.

No safety net.

No “at least.”

“At least…”

I stopped saying it. During our losing drought.

Because there was you.

And for the first time,

I didn’t need something to fall back on.

Because I already had it.

“I have my favorite person.”

Not a game.

Not a team.

You.

So the drought didn’t matter.

Life finally felt… full.

Because I thought

you were the one thing

that wouldn’t go away.

I didn’t need an “at least” anymore.

But the cycle continues.

Now you want to leave…or have already left,

into the wilds.

And I can’t help but wonder,

was I just temporary too?

So I guess I’m back

to where I started.

I’ve accepted it…

Not because I want to,

but because I have no choice.

The walls have been built,

an impenetrable fortress,

and I stand at the base of it,

still searching… still hoping

for even the smallest crack.

But there isn’t one.

It’s marble. Sealed shut.

So I’m laying my tools down now,

not out of peace,

but out of surrender.

And I’m walking away…

not because I want to,

but because I have no choice.

I’ll seal up the memories…

the laughs and the smiles.

I’ll seal up the memories…

the tears and the sorrows.

There is no crack. No way inside.

And if I stay here any longer,

I’ll crumble… I’ll disappear.

So I turn away now, I have to…

not because I stopped loving you,

but because I can’t survive loving you like this.

Not because I want to…

I’m stuck between my anger and the blame I can’t escape,

wishing I had been better and had loved more like agape.

I tell myself I’d find you in every lifetime,

so why did we fall short here… was it us, or just the time?

Hoping somehow we find our way back through distance and miles,

because they feel so small when I think of your smiles.

I know we were never just sunshine and rainbows,

but what we had felt worth all the highs and all the lows.

To say I’d do it over feels naive to believe,

because we’d need to be different… healed… to achieve

something lasting, something steady, and even true…

the kind of love I’ve only ever seen and felt with you.

But a love like that can’t be carried by only one,

You were a language I didn’t know.

When we first met, there was so much to learn,

so many unfamiliar sounds, meanings, ways of understanding.

It was new and sometimes scary,

how different everything felt from what I was used to.

But somehow, it was also familiar.

Exciting.

Like something in me already recognized you,

even if I didn’t fully understand you yet.

And the truth is…

this language gave me life.

It showed me a world I had never dreamed of

a world I once told myself I wouldn’t have,

or maybe didn’t deserve.

But then you came along,

and suddenly I was living in it.

Breathing it.

Feeling it in ways I didn’t know I could.

Every day, I learned a little more.

I found my own way of speaking you

adding my own rhythm, my own meaning,

trying to create something that felt like us.

And I loved learning you.

I loved trying.

Even when I got it wrong.

But somewhere along the way,

the language went quiet.

Unused.

And slowly… very slowly… it began to fade.

Now when I see it,

it feels foreign again…

Sometime familiar, but just out of reach.

Like I’m holding onto pieces of something beautiful,

trying to form sentences that once came so naturally.

But this time… I’m not rushing it.

I’m pausing.

Stepping back.

Because a language like this,

a language that gave me life,

that opened up a whole new world inside of me,

isn’t something I want to lose.

So maybe this time,

I relearn it differently.

With more patience.

More care.

More understanding.

And a healed version of myself.

Not out of fear of losing it…

but out of hope that something this rare,

this alive,