03/13/2012

dear tom,

i don’t know why i’m writing to you, but as we get closer to april i’m thrown back to last april and wishing i could have you more than anything. i’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. i look different now. i’m smaller, prettier, more self sufficient. i remember laying on your floor listening to you talk about the girls from your home town and how beautiful they all were and how nothing here could compare. while i didn’t think about it at the time, i wish i would’ve grabbed your shoulders, shaken you and asked, "what about me? what is so wrong with me?" i miss you in the way you can only miss things you never had. i honestly think i will at some point run into you, but i haven’t seen you since july when i kissed your forehead and left your apartment for the last time. that’s it, i guess.

me

i can’t ever escape ghosts. heath continues to come into where i work and i catch glimpses and while he keeps his distance from me, the time i did speak to him he said, "you’re finished with whoever you’re seeing. i can see it in your face." and i told him it didn’t matter either way because there would never be another chance for he and i.

i find myself pushing time again. i’m no longer comfortable with where i’m at and i’m aching for next weekend, for april, for may, for june, and sometimes for december.