foreign space - poetry&prose

i figured

that i should write this here, given that this is the third time ive written about you already.

(it's not.)

you know, death by a thousand cuts perfectly sums this up, i think. i wish it didn't remind me of you, wish it was just a song i liked that i'd never experienced. but late nights and quiet pining led to this, and i just can't stop.

(i look through the windows of this love, even though we boarded them up)

i keep writing and writing and thinking and thinking and listening and listening but i can never get down the feeling that you gave me, this feeling that i've acquired. so i keep on listening. i keep on thinking, and i keep on writing

(you said it was a great love, one for the ages
but if the story's over, why am i still writing pages?)

and nothing ever gets it down. except for playlists. playlists were our thing - a beloved form of communication we always looked towards. they were love letters, full of encouragement and adoration.

(you made me 6 playlists. you deleted all of them but they're still in my spotify library. i remember almost every song, every picture, every name.

i only made you two. then i made you another one that you never saw. and another one which i deleted, but made again.)

i miss you, i miss you way too much. i miss your blue shirts and your humour and your music taste and everything you were, i've been missing you for 10 months.

you've moved on way farther than that. i should know, i told you to go for girls in your church and cheered when you told me she was picking you up to school. and as far as i know, there is barely a semblance of me in your existence.

(my heart my hips my body my love, tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch)

you got away as fast you could, and that was probably a good move. 2018 was never a good year for me, laced with failure and shower cords and screaming parents. you were away from all of that, i made it so sure that you'd be away from all that that i started to not love you, a scenario i created all by myself. and when i asked for a break, i think you understood so well that you just cut yourself off.

(how did you give up so easily? how did i give up so easily?)

(gave up on me like i was a bad drug, now i'm searching for signs in a haunted club)

_

(i'll continue this in the next part, i got cut off)