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Sometimes it's just a reflex like muscle memory an ingrained habit, but I shake my head as one shakes the rustled brittle shackles of a bad dream I welcome daylight, sobriety after a fool’s long hope. It’s not you I want to call after a heart-pounding 5.6 earthquake some fault lines moving in my soul It was not you I loved just some dream the idea of something good that was not you that was not true, that left me broken and reeling shattered, clichéd, and healing. It’s sometimes a force of habit this muscle memory a fool’s long dream of hope.

tornados and torrents and ill-fated loves stories that never were just ideas and drafts in my head wishes with hours of days and homemade flavors and the first leaf of autumn. I'm letting you go by listening to the truth of your actions the things that did not happen did not happen for proverbial reasons and seasons, and yet— and yet... I'd like nothing more than to spend this storm with you dry my hair with a towel at your house after being drenched in the rain some joyful minutes, I would have loved to light my favorite candle —crisp apple and warm cloves— in the absence of other lights and talk freely and openly, of regrets and goals places to visit in Europe your new job my old fears and old homes But it can't be done. It can't be done. your dinner plans are not with me, did you just want my forgiveness like a blessing for your next conquest? you said you'd call, you said we'd drink wine by the trees with the stars of their leaves. did I mean so little? you

I think about you more than I should more than it's good. I go down into hopeful spirals that are not you that are not true. We'll stay on the shore we'll stay on the surface, there might have been gold there might have been corals But I'm not the one who's built canyons between us

I wish we could solve this: start anew like the sky the early birds enjoy like a breath of hope with our weapons down with the fearlessness of Love that sees not monsters but humans, flawed and glorious with thorns and lights scorns and compliments like a black-hearted poppy that wants to be seen for its beauty I wish we could see each other anew and yet enjoy the smile of recognition some sort of mirror image in an upside down pool in a universe not unlike ours. I want to know you: scars and courage befriend your passions stare your demons wide-eyed in the face give you room to rest the mask. I want you to see my strength that's endured loss and longing a me who's terrified—not of darkness—but of silence, a soul that's homesick for friendship a heart that honors stories the meaning of laughter the sacredness of a moment, who might still be a little lost between miles and zipcodes and is still at times caught up in a rocky relanding. I wish we could see each other

Grief is a lot like tiredness It deflates you It wears you down Grief is a lot like slow breaths The ones that hide a trepidation Grief pursues your words Hunts down the spark in your eyes It suffocates the corners of your mouth that turn upward when you smile Grief is a lot like an earthquake Time at full speed; the world in slow motion And life that is still Grief is a lot like tiredness the quiet suddent movement of death— I wish you are granted peace