i should be in therapy right now.
“should” is an interesting word.
it’s more that i regret not setting something up.
but what would i say?
would it be another hour of me holding back?
of blaming myself for feeling
of angry that it’s always the same subject
we circle back to.
if i could live in the depth of your eyes, i would.
if i could swim from shore to shore,
knowing you’d never let me go…
well, at least i can dream.
i can dream of everything your eyes remind me of.
of chocolate teddy grahams and being a child
leaning against my father’s shoulder.
i wonder each day if you were real,
if your eyes are in fact brown,
if you really met with me on 31 separate occasions,
but then i chide myself, of course you exist.
i have documents to prove our time together.
but words mean nothing, at least to you.
i used too many silences.
i didn’t extend my hand out enough.
i let my throat dry out too often
and the last time we sat across from each other,
i held your gaze with nothing but sadness.
you didn’t look down, but i did,
and still to this day i question why and how
your whole demeanor can change,
how you can barely say goodbye,
how you thought this would be
