March 12

Today is your birthday.
A spring baby with the temper of a Leo, bound to be broken.

I wash my hands again, one drop at a time cleansing each fingertip.
A blank envelope lies in the back of my closet.
I close the door so your promise is real.
My faithfulness unfolds one centimeter at a time.
I can feel you just inches away
settled in my routine, but
this time is different.

This time, I forget to apologize for speaking up in front of your best friend.
Silence is your solution and I am left deaf with disappointment. This time,
I can’t recall the warmth of your touch
apologetically brushing the outside of my thigh,
always under a table. This time when I blink,
I lose a little bit of you.

You’re a child lost in thought, spinning my focus as you lead me
away from everything I am sure of.
We wander among the out-of-state license plates,
making stops at every park we come across,
resting tired bones on blue swings, the inertia
carving out our bodies as you slowly pick up my hand and rest
your shoulder against mine.

4 months later, I memorize every imperfection on your face,
knowing it will dissolve.
My smile fails to conceal just how much I want you.
You start picking fights like the sun burnt skin that won’t relent but I am numb,
permanently missing everything we were.
You leave 3 thousand miles between us and I run in circles this time.

I can’t wait for you to change.

What I miss the most: that voice, every crack it carries,
the pale eyes that found another face as I let go of forever to fall in love.
We watched every memory fade into an empty plot and I hurt you,
possibly harder than before.

I know that my heart will heal
if I let it,
but I can’t undo you. I am lonely,
not alone.