We used to go everywhere together.
he always knew where he was going.
he would say
and after awhile, I knew he could navigate
the way on his own.
then they would go places together,
“To the city art museum”
“to the nearest baskin robbins”
it was a late one, that night,
when the car lights dimmed and
only quiet music played.
They went to mcdonalds and olive garden,
to every park in town and
to three different parts of the beach.
but tonight something was different.
he didn’t ask for directions
to her house,
“I don’t know where to go”
he always knew where to go.
why doesn’t he know now?
he cried out again, ” She is gone.”
[Where is gone?]
[I am sorry, I do not know where “Gone” is located,
would you like me to redirect you to “Her House”
you have been there sixty two times in the last two months.]
[Would you like to rename this location “Home”?]
"I dont know where home is anymore"
[Would you like to rename “Her House” to “Home”?]
[“Home” has been saved.]
[Would you like to go “Home”?]
i hope i randomly get super hot in the next year or two and everyone is just like “oh shit”
we loved each other too hard.
this is what I tell myself
late at night,
to convince myself that it
doesn’t still hurt,
that I am not still broken.
my whole body is a scar
from loving with abandon.
you called me last week and said,
“but, babe, this is our infinity.”
and I said,
“our time just ran out.”
and we hung up knowing nothing
would be the same again.
maybe in twenty years we can
say we loved each other without regret.
As I grow older,
I realize that the more years we collect,
the less attachments we have with others.
We stop hugging when we say hello or goodbye
and we drop the I when we say “love you!”
as if we wanted no personal attachment
to such a heavy phrase.
we grow up and graduate college and swear we will
but all we do is hide.
I woke up to the smell of my heart breaking,
scrambled eggs, burnt toast, and complacency.
I did not feel your lips on my forehead this morning.
did you stop loving me over night?
I know we had a fight and you screamed,
“you don’t even know me anymore,”
and I threw our picture in the trash can,
“how could I know you when you never
let me in?”
but this was a lover’s quarrel, right?
you said I would need to be patient.
you said I would need to keep the door open,
unless you were the one to close it
and I swear I didn’t know saying I loved you
would change anything.
I didn’t know losing my cool in the heat of the moment meant losing you, too.
you did not clean the kitchen this morning,
but you left a note that said “goodbye”
are you sure you didn’t take me with you?
I feel lost.