day 166

just more I Miss You's
***

Since you've left home
I've kept one side of my bed cluttered
last night with clothes
tonight with art work
with assignments
syllabuses
supplies

Maybe I will trick myself into thinking I have more work to do if I wake up in the middle of the night. I am already missing your being. I have learned the way we curve together, and fit, and love. I miss being in your arms. I miss feeling your breath on the back of my neck.

Tonight is just another long night. I've distracted myself with assignments, kept myself busy. There is nothing left to do but to clean up. I wish you were home.
It gets harder to sleep.

day 165

I've taught myself to never fall in love with other poets.*

There are too many writers I want to swim with. I've learned the meaning of ocean through words and voice. The waves I jump with have become familiar with goodbye.
Poets only want to write about love, about falling in love, falling out of love, hard love, sweet love, the moon, the sky, the galaxies, and earthquakes. I have trained my heart to not become a supporting actor in a non fiction novel. There are days I used to yearn the attention of love songs and sad poems. I've grown up and away from this. There are other ways to be loved, I've learned. I do not need a song. I do not need words. I do not need the ouus and the awws from strangers in an audience. I do not feed the urge to be the air exhaled into a microphone.

I love like this however. I love like bad poetry and unrehearsed choruses. I love like forgetting your lines on stage. Like not looking an audience in the eye because I cannot give my heart to strangers anymore. I refuse to scare off hopeless romantics. Love is harsh and honest, but worth it.

I want to write the best love poem. Someday I will wake up after doing somersaults inside of rib cages.

day 164

I will learn to love you with patience. In time I will learn to forget muscle memory. I will soon forget how to fit into the curves of a past lover. I think of old skin and I tremble. I wash bed sheets with new mornings to try to get rid of the evidence. I will learn to accept the way my body has warmed up to the touch of a new stranger. I am ready to face shy sunshines and nervous hands. I am ready to walk away, to forget persistence, to always remember worth. I miss you dearly and I miss you often. I wake up before the sun does and I wait for it to come home. It's the only way I know we are connected, through warmth and light. The sun doesn't rise at the same time everyday. I am learning patience. I will learn to love you with patience.

day 163

Stop.

day 162

The knives we swallow to scratch up our insides never leave us. We are programmed to love one way, breathe another, fit the void in other hands, fix the cracks in rib cages, sew together stomachs, send butterflies to museums, grow affixed to being alone.
We are programmed to sleep snugly. We write naked and read clothed, closed off, trying to get close to other lovers. We are afraid of being held and having stitches heal overnight. Fearing that we wake up with the chance of the knives in our bodies breaking free.
We are programmed to hide our shames and nakedness to new lovers. I am afraid to fall in love again, I am afraid of showing the skin underneath my rib cage, I am afraid to cut open another lover. Make a fresh wound. Afraid to show him that blood makes me weak. I am afraid of war and growing accustomed to being cut open and wounded.

We are programmed to hide our weaknesses. To grow strong and tall. To love by learning how to hide the knives we were programmed to swallow.

day 161

You have become home
800 miles away
I miss you always

I carry your ghost
You are worth every mile
I am learning to become stronger
Training my body to withstand more pain
to hold a lot more
I fill the void around my fingers with your spirit
It is still winter here
and there
Spring is coming soon
I've learned that I can wait for it

In time

day 160

I feel overwhelmed
often and hard

Spending a Friday night at a mall filled with couples is torture
I blame my emotions on bitterness
and feeling lonely

I miss the way his hands grip mine
That is what I wish for the most
He has made me believe in 11:11
and fairy tales
and happy endings
and long distance relationships

He has taught me patience
and unconditional love
That a laugh means more than tears
and being hunched over after laughing is one of the best feelings to have

Sometimes I still want to cry
I miss him often and I miss him hard
I am overwhelmed by how many "I Wish You Were Heres"
and the "don't worry he'll be backs"
I wake up wishing for him touching my skin
He is becoming muscle memory
I am learning to love him every day
Love overwhelms me
He is worth every emotion