i. sometimes i write your name
in rainbow crayons on the walls. sometimes
my room smells like you and sometimes
i can't stand this silence
you've left me with, because it's
a cold silence, the kind that
sneaks into my blood and leaves me

empty.

[fact: i still miss you.]

ii. dreams like this are made
to make me lose my mind;
the vibrancy and the details
are so realistic,
but what happens, isn't.
because you're still here,
and your arms are around me
(and they feel so real,
oh my God, they feel so real),
but i know that you're

gone.

[fact: i wish i could forget you, but
what would i think about then?]

iii. sometimes i wonder if
there is a secret button
you have to press
to get happiness. sometimes
i wonder where yours went,
and i wonder if
that's why you left;
to go find yours.

[fact: i never could make you happy.]

iv. i never learned how to
do a lot of things:
i can't tie my shoes;
i don't know how to swim;
i've never learned to sew.
maybe if i learned to let go,
this wouldn't matter;
but instead i chased after you
and i tripped over my shoelaces
and drowned in my loneliness
and couldn't stitch my heart back together.

[fact: i need someone to teach me these things.]

v. you used to say
i love you. and sometimes,
i almost believed you. sometimes,
i thought you meant it. but usually,
i knew better. usually,
i could see that you were
lying through your teeth.

[fact: you never were a good liar.]