Untitled. 1:19 am.

The other morning, I sat in the car and looked out the window, but I wasn’t watching the cars.

I didn’t have to close my eyes to see the memories, but like screens my eyes glazed over and I remembered you.

I remembered when you hugged me and my head fell against your chest.

It wasn’t goodbye, it wasn’t even that long until we would meet again.

I held your tears in my heart with me the whole way home,

missing you, your arms, your breath, the way you said my name, you.

Days passed by, I tried not to cry, i’d text and text and text.

And then one day it got away from me, I got into my own head.

Because what if he doesn’t want me anymore?

What if this distance was more than physical,

and I’m left blissfully unaware again?

Because you don’t talk to me like you used to.

The only times I feel your care is indirect, it feels untruthful.

I become wary as I pick up the phone, and say some things that were better left alone.

Soon, the patterns start repeating.

I can’t help but fall into the cycle more and more as i fret about you leaving.

Don’t be so insecure, give a lot less or a little more.

Now i’m left with broken pieces of my memories on the ground.

Worried that next time you see me, you’ll realize you don’t want me around.

I wonder what will become of me once your board your plane, and I lay here staring at my ceiling, but I wasn’t…

I don’t want that to be a real goodbye. I don’t want to have to remember the last time we laughed and we cried

As the last time I ever got to see my best friend.

And I hope that we can find the strength to let me remember you again.