i wonder

i wonder, how often do you think of me?

is it every time you breathe and my mouth is not there to inhale a small sliver of your soul?

or is it every time you look up and your gaze is not met with my eyelashes brushing gently against your cheek?

or maybe it is every time your lips curl up into a smile and there is no one there to laugh at your crooked teeth.

or perhaps it is every time you furrow your brow in frustration and i am not there to smoothen your forehead with a kiss.

i wonder, do you even notice that i am no longer there?

or if when you breathe now, your lungs flutter with sighs of relief.

or if when you look up, all you see is clarity where mist once clouded your judgment -- your every thought.

or if when every time you smile, it is of release and of the realization that this is what you've always wanted -- to be alone.

or if when you furrow your brow, it is in genuine confusion as to why it took you so long to get here.

i wonder, how often do you regret the life i so terribly miss?

7/18/16, 4:30pm

You loved me like the monsoon loved the insignificant suburban town at mid afternoon in the heart of July. A sudden, steady intensity, a deliberate, blinding love, with thousands of droplets roaring the same simple promise of Forever. Thick with the heat of passion, dense with the sanctity of happy ever after. The world turns white, contained in a violent storm of Now. We are encapsulated in the fervor of Eternity, never wavering under the pillars of thundercloud strength.

I cannot see anything but this moment, you and I, our hearts beating in time to the brutal pitter patter of downpour. Time has stopped as we breathe to the rhythm of the growling grey skies, and of each other. I am suffocated by the humidity of your words, yet I grapple to breathe in more. I struggle to remember a life outside of this propitious, silver whirlwind. I don’t think I want to.

We could have only been evoked by a rain dance, the final resort of a man desperate for love. The universe has worked so hard for us to be, yet in an instant, we are gone—you, are gone. The trees have surrendered their wooden thrones, and the sidewalks guiltily reek of a damp, forgotten romance. Zeus watches, mouth agape, bewildered and inexplicably wounded. When the Sun finally reveals itself again, we dazzle in the specks of flint sparking in the concrete, begging to be remembered. The storm has passed, and nothing is the same.

97 In Between

We parted ways at the center clock

With small embraces

And mumbled exchanges

Sauntering to our numbered platforms

Looking back for a moment

Reluctant yet relieved.

As I stepped onto my train

Whisked away back again

To a sleepy one horse town

I began to wonder

About all the things I didn't say:

Was he closer to his father

Or his mother?

Was he scared of being swallowed whole

In a school of 30,000

Or would he navigate gracefully

Through the crowds of people

Trying their best to make sense of it all

Just like him?
Even though he swears he’s not a messy eater

How many times a day

Does he stain his baby blue button down

With mint chocolate chip ice cream?

Does he watch them splash around

Darting his eyes from left to right

For the money

Or something

Deeper

And bigger

Than all of us?

Why finance?

Does it make his heart sing,

And would he ever consider Wall Street?

What goes on

In that beautiful mind 

As he sits quietly in a corner

With an empty beer can in hand

Waiting for someone to notice him?

Did he know he was the first time

I looked at novelty with eagerness;

Something other than spite?

And lastly,

Did he know

On the subway ride home

Back to 42^nd

Where I discovered

That the crook of his arm

Was a place I fit perfectly

That this was the last time?
Did he know it was the end

To something that had not yet begun

Or does he too,

Wonder

About all the things he didn't say?

Replies of Chloride

It makes me wonder

With every bitter word you say to me now

If the love I poured into your soul

Still burns on your tongue

With the pungent aftertaste 

Of defeat and loss and deliberate departure

And if

With every word I say back to you

Snide remarks made of useless blades

Dulled by the numbing pain of goodbye

The hairs still stand on the back of your neck

Like the first time I ever told you I loved you

Or if we’ve gotten rid of it all

and bleached each other out

stains of Love on our white satin solitude

Immune to the harshness of our voices

Raw with anger and the unspoken truth

That this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

Pulp Fiction

You say let's chalk it up

and blame it on the drunkenness,

but a part of me wants to believe

that this was meant to happen.

We were supposed to find ourselves

drunk on whiskey on a rainy

Wednesday summer afternoon,

our foreheads touching as we 

drunkenly giggle at the idea of us,

with our faces lit up by the faint glow

of Pulp Fiction on the TV screen,

and me begging you with my eyes

to kiss me.

And we never even got to finish

that damn movie

or find out what happens next;

I guess we were too busy

writing our own story

that we'll chalk up tomorrow

and blame on the drunkenness.

It's All Fun and Games

Your NFL team won tonight, and I couldn’t help but smile and congratulate you in my head. Smile about your adamant belief that if you wear their jersey five minutes before the end of the game, you’ll help them win. Smile about how hard you kissed me when they did. Smile about how when I asked you why you root for them when you’ve never even been to Colorado, you replied that as a little kid, you liked the colors of their uniforms: a vibrant orange and a navy blue. And it just stuck. Now you’re theirs forever.

I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m jealous of them.

Because somehow, falling asleep in each other’s arms every Sunday night turned out to be a ritual far too difficult and complicated to follow. Somehow, kissing me with other eyes watching became too strange. Somehow, even though you swore that the color of my boring brown eyes is your favorite, you’ve decided that you’re tired of looking into them. Somehow, it’s easier to commit to a bunch of burly men who have no idea you exist than to a girl who has forgotten what it’s like to exist without you.

Remember When?

Booze, buzz, and sticky floors

You love me but I love you more

Dressed up like the adults we pretend to be,

But we’re just children, you and me.

Darkened room and tortured heat

The last thing I want is to admit defeat 

You say you can’t, so I say I will

That’s what you do for love, yourself you kill

Tiny buttons and silver doors

Who would’ve known what was in store?
I loved you most, that I know

Because it were you, you wouldn’t have let me go.

We had so much more of us ahead,

At least the next four is what you said.

But then you realized that we weren’t that strong,

That a love like this couldn’t last that long

We built a life we thought we’d live together

Silly us, to even think of believing in forever

Now we know to take a closer look

Reality: It never happens like it does in the books.

You were my prince, I thought you knew

But even that was never good enough for you.

You never stopped to think or even second guess

What would become of such a mess.

I thought I lost my lifelong friend,

But you were just a lesson to be learned—a generous lend

And now I’m just left to pretend 

That you are more than just a “Remember when?”

2:30 AM Thoughts

Someday, when all your dreams have come true and you've gotten everything you've ever wanted out of this life, I hope you remember that there was one you left behind, deliberately abandoned in the back alleyways of your mind, like an unfinished sentence or a half-eaten slice of bread. I hope you dig deep within the sandpits of your soul and uncover the entire existence we made together, like opening up a box of distance memories filled with half-ripped, faded photographs. I hope you remember everything we thought we'd be and the life we so naively built together when we were eighteen and didn't know any better. I hope your eyes fill with the same tears I cried every night for months on end, and your lungs cave in from the weight of the regret you've been trying so hard not to feel every day since that crisp November morning when you so wrongly decided which dreams were worth turning into reality.

Where You'll Find Us

You will find us in strange places and tight spaces.

You will find us in between your couch cushions

and behind cartons of freshly bought milk.

You will find us under piles of paper on your messy desk

and the coin compartment of your first self-bought car.

You will find us in the back corner of your medicine cabinet

and beneath the box of winter sweaters in your bedroom closet.

Like gum wrappers that were never thrown out

and spare change that was too heavy for your pocket.

Like a half eaten sandwich re-wrapped for later

and an unfinished cup of earl grey tea.

Like a crumpled up sticky note with a helpful reminder

and an old grocery list for a big family dinner.

This is where you’ll find us.

This is what we’ve become.