I scream your name in my nightmares.
I thought it was over.
So why is your ghost here knocking at the door?
You taught me to enjoy the now,
‘cause a forever is only made of ever so many of them.
Yes, you told me to forget forever,
‘cause we always knew we weren’t going to last.
You told me that neither a tsunami’s revolting aftermath nor its ephemerality can make its enormous, dangerous waves any less beautiful.
You gave me courage,
Or at least enough of it for me to look Past in the eye and tell it to go fuck itself,
Enough of it for me to look Future in the eye and say “yes, I’m ready for whatever you bring.”
Enough of it for me to look Present in the eye and say “I love you,”
Enough of it for me to embrace change.
Yes, you let me enjoy change,
with your beautiful smiling eyes, the color of which I never quite put my finger on, probably because they themselves were always changing.
How ironic that I don’t enjoy this status change to single.
Even thinking of you makes me dizzy, lightheaded, nauseous.
What has happened to my former sane self?
Crazy at a 2 a.m. on a Saturday, I can’t help wondering if you regret things too;
I can’t help thinking, hoping even, that you may be scribbling the same tropes in your house, maybe on a Tuesday night after you’re tired from that stupid-ass job you’d always hated even more than eating the cookie parts of an Oreo.
But no, I’m sure you’ve moved on.
Your ghost told me that you’re doing just fine;
Yes, he did,
in that same sexy motherfucking voice as the one I’ll always remember in that moment you told me everything was going to turn out just fine.
But maybe that’s just a surface impression.
‘Cause I’ve moved on too, on the surface at least.
Quit thinking. Shut your eyes. Sleep, I tell myself, but to no avail.
No, I don’t obey my own orders, no, not when your ghost is ready to burst in through the door with a laugh and a “You won’t believe what happened today.”
I never showed you the darkest parts of me,
No, not the most horrendous impulses,
No, never the horrific thoughts from the dried blood on the stitches in my heart.
But still I think you knew,
Yeah, you did.
And you weaned me from them,
You did it, with your perfect smile,
Yes, Demon, you did have the smile of a fucking Angel.
But it’s fine.
Yeah, it’s alright.
I’m only bleeding.