Collection of My Own Unsent Love Letters

i am so full of longing

that

if it so happened to materialize

and my longing could then be stretched out

it’d be enough to wrap around the world or

maybe out and around the milky way?

no, further, like, to andromeda and back

or maybe just enough to wrap around you

twice

three times

we broke up at 1:53 AM

but it was fall and it was daylight savings

so our phones didn’t go to 2:00, it went back to 1:00

time went back to when we were still together, still fighting, still thinking we had a chance

i still thought we did

time was telling us it thought so too

because we’re here only for a short moment and we change and apparently time does too because really not much matters in the end

except for who we have when that comes.

we broke up at 1:53 AM

but our phones say 1:03

does this mean we have exactly 50 minutes before our end comes again?

or does this mean we have 51 minutes before we decide something else, decide what we should have the first time around?

i’ve gotten the hour back

i’m always sprinting, even though this is a long run, a marathon,

there’s someone (older me) way down the line ready for my baton

but they’re plenty of ways to go still

then, when i’m nowhere near the finish line,

i have the nerve to wonder

to make pretty things

i use words

he uses paint

so i

whisper loving words to his skin, in his ears whenever i can

so he

touches me lovingly on mine, smearing me whenever he can

he walks into the kitchen with nothing but his boxers

i am wearing nothing but his shirt and it goes till my mid-thigh

once my clothed torso meets his bare one, he will be complete

i don’t mind feeling naked; i feel that way with him all the time

no more looking for answers at the bottom of the bottle

this is the answer to my everything

spring may be here but you aren’t

the flowers aren’t worth looking at without you

the grass isn’t getting any greener since you’re not by my side

i haven’t been sleeping well. i’ve always been more of a night owl, but i’ve recently stayed up to the point where i’m inadvertently becoming a morning bird too.

you haven’t been sleeping well, either. you were always the first to sleep between the two of us, but now i see your “Active now” sign lit green on Instagram far later in the night than it should be.

are we both tossing and turning at the same times now? only turning to find that the other isn’t where they’re supposed to be? have we both become insomniacs since the only melatonin we needed before was taken in the form of our Goodnight texts?

you’re too good to not be a piece of fiction

i’d like to meet whoever wrote you and they’ll become my parents as they are yours

i’d love to read between your lines— see for myself what’s been left unwritten, unsaid

our bodies may get heavier but so do our anniversaries!

10 years from now we will be of 28 years and by then we can say we’ve known each other for 15 of them

i was hugging you with ~things~ in my hands

stupidstupidstupid, i thought

i could’ve put them down; the sweater you were wearing— the one i bought for you, you wear it so well— should’ve been the only thing my hands were around. i should’ve focused on holding you instead of them.

smart, i realize

if i had my hands on you like that again i might’ve never let go.