Tag: sadnesss

You Always Come Back to Me

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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

Tired of Dreaming

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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

Dreaming You

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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

A Bleeding Heart

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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

Exchange

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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

Miss Me Less

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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

Thirty-something

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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

Dreams

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I can’t control dreams,

But if I could,

I would steer them away from you.

I have no desire to dream of utopia but wake and live in reality.

Dreams bring me to you, to us; to our other dimension, as we used to say.

The dreams aren’t real but the feelings I awake with sure are.

If I can only have moments of you in dreams, perhaps I should stay asleep so I can keep dreaming.

Alas, I cannot control dreams.

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Hope this finds you well,

-L

If Memories Were Ink

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I’ve been trying to write about myself but all that comes easily to paper is you.

That’s all I have left.

Maybe if I write enough, I can let go.

With each swoop and loop, may the ink take away the knowing and the missing, the feeling and the lingering.

Take the vividness and the longing.

May all the memories be the ink that comes to dry across pages instead of tears that streak across my cheeks.

I don’t really want to forget.

I can never really forget.

I’m certain that eventually all pens run out of ink.

Here’s to writing and to hoping.

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Hope this finds you well,

-L