3.4.20
It has been two years.
Still, the thought of you;
It passes by in waves.
Sometimes, it doesn't move me at all, I am standing still. But, other times; I submerge into the weight within the waves, I let it take me under.
I knew when it was 2:54 p.m, and the wind was a little too rough on my warm skin. The air smelled like the smoke in your backyard on a Sunday afternoon and the dogs barking sounded like yours, and I heard your bike engine roar in the wind.
The more you fight the current, the more it gravitates you towards it. I have decided to let it hurt, as it should. Hurting is part of healing. The sunlight kisses your curls, and there are moments still frozen in time.
It is March twenty first, Night Changes is playing in my room. Your name is on my phone, I put away my last clean shirt. I never forgot that day.
I never forgot the way you knew, in your voice; you were making the worst mistake. You still went through. Though, I could hear the strain in your voice. Wished you the best, and I was the first to hang up. Your voice cracked when you said goodbye. I knew it was the last time I would hear your voice. It did not hit me then.
It did not hit me then, when you were there when I was asleep. You were in all my dreams. When I was awake, it was somebody else beside you. It did not hit me then.
I watch your life pass by in photographs, sometimes I hope you are doing okay. Wherever you wound up, wherever the currents wash you up onto; I hope that love finds you, and that you let it open you.
It hit me then, when I held back saying those three words. It was March sixteenth. You were laying down beside me by the fire, and we were both drunk on a mutual darkness. The moonlight illuminated the spaces between us. I hesitated telling you, so I didn't. Still frozen in time, it hits me now. Two years later. My biggest regret wasn't losing you. It was saying nothing at all.
Sometimes I still dream of you. I hope one day you feel the sand in your toes and you see the coast for what it really is someday. I hope one day you do make that drive to Colorado. I hope you have the courage to get out of that town, that same courage you had to leave me. I hope you have the courage for the right things. The courage to allow yourself to feel love radiating in your being.
One day, I pray that you will become warm. That someday you will believe in praying again. You'll sing again. I hope you find your way back someday.
YOU ARE READING
The Other Person Project
Poetrythe answer is yes. it will always be yes. you will always be the words. [(format) This originally started as a secret project I took on senior year, in high school. I wanted to write a poem about every single person in my class, eventually it becam...
