across the park, there is a coffeeshop and i left everything there.
all the souvenirs from my trip around the sun twice;
there were receipts from a french restaurant and a t-shirt and a head full of memories that didn’t deserve the nostalgia anymore.
there were kisses in the dark and mud on the bottom of my shoes from those rainy nights i snuck through the unkempt yard.
there was an empty camera roll and endless poems.
there were things i said and words you didn’t and a thousand reasons to go home early.
there were all the moments i asked God to make me good enough for someone like you.
there was a monogramed wallet and melting ice in a glass of stoli.
there were moments of silence in the living room because there had to be.
there was tire black on my hand from your flat when i came to the rescue.
there were peanut butter-covered snacks and homemade popcorn and a thousand finished episodes of a dark and twisted podcast.
there was the feeling of hope and happiness when i thought maybe just maybe there’s a chance.
there were drives home from block one thousand or whatever, that never made sense to me.
never made sense to me
and it will never make sense to me. block one thousand and every other thing on that trip around the sun twice.
so i left everything there at the coffee shop across from the park.
it’s the last place i saw you but the first time i really
your writing feels rather raw and just heartfelt.