sight_unseen
Home to me was never a place,
Always a feeling.
I let you in and
Then
Home had a center again.
It had its own gravitational pull.
I wanted to be home all the time.
Without you in my life,
Except for one month out of the year,
Wanting to go home becomes excruciating.
I want to go home.
Since home became a person,
I’ve never truly had a home.
I still have yet to find one,
My mind and body still yearning for you;
For home.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Every September, here you come again.
Here to drag my heart around:
Down the roads we used to drive,
Through the fields we used to farm,
Over the couches we used to kiss on,
Around the sunlit days we used to fall in love.
Dragging.
Bruised and sore, but willing nonetheless.
Is it really dragging or
Perhaps pulling;
Carrying.
I’d follow you and memory lane anywhere.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I made my therapist cry today; explaining how this makes me feel, even all these years later.
Like grieving a best friend’s passing and missing them like missing a part of you. Until one day the wound heals and you don’t miss them quite as much.
Then suddenly you get the opportunity to talk to them, to hear they’re okay.
I’ve never been able to turn down the opportunity.
Neither have you.
I don’t miss you ever as much as I miss you every September.
You always come back to me in the fall.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
My raggedy heart beats against the shores of my chest,
Beaten by the waves of you.
Tide in; tide out.
Riding the waves,
Waving for surrender.
But you don’t see the white.
Worn, torn, tired.
Steady and relentless in all the best and worst ways.
Never taking it easy on my raggedy heart.
I’ll be ready when you are.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Even my tired brain stays awake to think of you.
With you.
Without you.
What my life has been and what it could have been.
Thinking of full moons and you.
Awake and sleeping- dreaming.
Always of you.
Always in the fall.
Wishing for and hating goodbye.
I’m tired of this life, of you, of life without you.
So tired of dreaming.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
A dream I have every so often is a reunion with you.
We’re both 18.
It feels like we’ve found a spot where the film between lifetimes and dimensions is so thin that we’ve slipped through.
I look across to the passenger seat of my old car and there you are.
It feels like yesterday; your hug feels like it’s today. The ache I feel is gone and the piece missing from my soul has clicked back into place. I can breathe again. Never has any hug felt so good and I can’t imagine another one ever will.
Waking without you is either the most searing pain or like the calm after the storm. I never know which it’ll be and still I’d dream this dream one thousand times.
Maybe I already have.
Until the next lifetime, I’ll be seeing you; dreaming you.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
The waves of missing you come steadily as ocean waves against the shore, every few heartbeats one belongs to you.
4,000 kilometres away and I still feel it.
“Happy birthday…”
And my heart bleeds again, always for you.
Crying between palm trees, turning thirty.
A decade apart and still we repeat the saga and maintain the tether.
Some part of us needs these waves.
I wish the ocean would keep its own salt water; it can take it off my face,
And that waves were only for water.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I’d cut September out of the year like I’d cut this heart out of my chest and give it back to you.
I’m tired of aching.
Even one month is too long.
This missing and longing is nine years too late.
Waking,
Sleeping,
Dreaming,
Missing.
Take it away.
Take September, you can have it.
I’ve had plenty without you now but still my heart forgets this fact.
Let me have my heart back- it beats in your chest as this one does for you.
Let’s exchange hearts and you keep September.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
You miss me. I can hear it in your voice.
Every time you wish me kisses for my birthday, are you wishing me yours?
Will this tether we have ever let us go?
I need to breathe in September.
Missing you while awake and while sleeping won’t let me.
I miss you too.
That’s the great divide.
September comes yearly and with it comes you.
Miss me less next year.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
I’m thirty now and soon you will be too.
I can’t help but be eager for these Septembers to change, for September to just be a month again.
I’ll be thirty-something when the melancholy and the memories fade.
I’ll hate it but I’ll need it.
Maybe one year soon we’ll skip a birthday. By we, I mean you, because you’ll have to miss mine first.
My thirty-something birthday can celebrate forgetting and forgiveness.
One less text message is all it takes.
So I’ll be here, waiting to turn thirty-something.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Sight Unseen 