how nicely or how badly he
treated you and no matter
how long or how little you
had him you will miss
him and you will want him
to be the one that comforts
you and you will want to know
why he did this to you and you
will scream at the world and be
angry even at the flowers that
grow from the soil of the earth
and you will collapse on the floor
like a leaf falling from its tree and
you will feel lost like a tourist in a
foreign city and you will feel so
numb that you will have to check
if your heart is even beating and
I am not going to sugarcoat it for
you and I am not going to tell you
that he will come back and lift you
out of your grave because the truth
is you will have to stitch your body
back together and you will have
to be the one that cleans the
waterfall of tears that have
splashed your cheeks and no
matter how much you wish
for him to come back you will
have to learn that most stars
are already dead in light-years
and you have to be the one
that fixes your own gears of
your contraption because
you are the only one that can
swim when you are drowning
in your own blood.
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming.