There are things that I
can’t stand to be around
for too long
without wanting to cry;
things that most
can shove aside,
can pass over as
virtually worthless.
Like that certain shade of blue,
front row theatre seats,
a swingset in a park,
a book of poetry,
banana-flavored tobacco.

And there are other things
I hide from the world,
but mostly that I hide
from myself.
Three autumn-scented letters,
chronicling the improvement
of your handwriting,
how many different ways
you can say
“I’m here for you”
how many different ways
I could ignore you saying
“I’m not who you think I am”.
A bracelet,
tied strings of my favorite
colors, to match
your favorite colors.
Two photographs
of us
when we were young
and wanted to feel old;
of us
when we were young,
and suddenly afraid
of getting older.
Pre-paid tickets,
one that you didn’t want to keep,
and one I never wanted to throw away,
for a movie that I was
dying to see,
but never really saw,
because in that darkness,
that artificial darkness,
you were lit up with light
that could have been Heaven,
and all I was aware of
was the closeness of us,
that if I moved my hand,
it would be in yours.
All I was aware of,
was you sitting next to me,
and feeling the perfection
of that moment,
feeling that I wouldn’t mind
if we spent our lives
   just
    like
     this.

And I fall into the
falsely comforting arms of
these things
more often than I want.
And I fall.
I fall.
I fall.
Until, gloriously,
I rise.
And I don’t quite
understand it,
but I always
rise.

Because these memories
will never completely fade,
but they don’t always
have to stay
so sad,
they don’t always have to be
the only memories I have.

---

Not sure about the ending. If anyone wants to play around with it, be my guest.

<3C