- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

hey,

go
tell them the story

“what story?”

the one
you
can’t
tell.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

UNTIL WE’VE SAID OUR GOODBYES

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

what i used to think no.1

you say
we’re running out of time
but how
can we run out of time
when time is frozen
whenever i’m with you?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

they told us

it would last forever
they told us
we would last forever

so why didn’t we?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

the story
goes like this:

step one
we meet
under that one birch tree
and you smile,
and i smile,
and you say hi,
and i say hi, and then

step two
we meet again.
under that one birch tree
again
and again
and again
until you get tired, too tired, so

step three
we fight
yell, scream, throw, crash
you take your polaroid camera
the one i gifted you two years ago,
the one you saved all of our memories
both good and bad
in,
you hurl it out the window
and fall to the ground
on your knees
and you
cry
so i crouch down, sitting still next to you watching you hunched over, sobbing
and i make a silent wish that one day
i could cry like you, too
without being scared of ruining things,
without realizing
it’s been ruined since we began,

step four
we fight again.
but
this time,
you don’t cry.
you pick up your things,
pick up yourself,
what about me?
you pick up everything
and leave me to deal with

step five
i sit on the floor
alone
and though i feel really,
really,
really pathetic
about it
and lay in bed
alone
hating myself for it
all
night
long,

i cry.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

that’s the story

pretty basic, right?
well, that’s it.
the end.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

that’s not the end.

yes, it is.
no, it’s not.
yes, it is. what else do i have left to say?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

goodbye (n.)

an instance of saying “goodbye”; a parting.
“[you] left without saying goodbye to [me].”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

i’ve never really understood

those kids,
running around in the playground
playing hide-and-seek tag
in their tiny, sparkly costumes
trying to be
kings, princesses, knights in shining armor

maybe it’s just because
i used to be one of them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

it’s been two weeks since you left me and

it’s like you’re still here
the smell of your lavender perfume still
l i n g e r i n g
on our my linen sheets
of our birchwood bed
the one we hand-made
from the birch tree,
from the day we met

do you think our birch tree, our bed
would still provide us shelter
as if we were still kids,
laughing, smiling,
even if now
we’re a thousand worlds apart?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

do you remember

the day you kissed me?
that day
when you
kissed me
did you ever think, even for a split second,
after you
left,
that if you had never kissed me
we’d have been living separate lives
in separate worlds
since the very beginning
and maybe,
everything would be okay right now?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

i’m not trying to blame you

for everything that happened.
i don’t think it’s your fault.
i don’t plan on thinking it’s your fault.
but when, if, you think about it,
do you ever ask yourself,
was it my fault?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

i’m sorry

i know i’m being selfish right now
i know you didn’t mean to
b  r  e  a  k
m y
h e a r t
to leave it
s  h  a  t  t  e  r  e  d
on the cobblestone path
leading to
our front porch

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

question

do you still care?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

promise (n.)

a declaration or assurance that one will do a particular thing or that a particular thing will happen.
“[you] never kept [your] promise of returning [my heart].”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

you know,

i still kept that polaroid picture
the only one you didn’t rip up
you said it was because you couldn’t find it,
but i’m pretty sure
you left it there
on purpose
for me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

polaroid picture:

old, vintage film
because you refused to use any other
two little girls, grins wide, happ-
-ier than i am now when i see
the shorter one
with the rosy cheeks and
your
pretty little blonde double-braids,
trailing down
your
back
trying to place a flower crown on
my
head,
the taller one, straining to reach up,
you’d always been shorter than me,
and you’d blame it on your parents
saying you can’t help it, it’s in your genes,
because you hated that part of yourself
so much,
then one insufferably sunny day
when i told you it didn’t matter if you were tall
or short
or happy
or sad
i’d like you for you nevertheless
and you grew quiet, do you
remember?
with the leaves of our my birch tree
showering down
red, orange, yellow
autumn wind swoosh, swooshing, blowing them everywhere
i remember you and i, gathering it all up, i remember it better than any old vintage polaroid camera, we made a bed, jumped in and ruined the whole thing but we were laughing, we were happy but we don’t, can’t, do that anymore-

…

it’s just a photograph.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

that night, i

b u r n e d
that photograph
that colorful autumn-hue vintage film
and with it,
b u r n e d
every memory
we shared that day
one time, long, long ago, my favorite day
now, a ghost of my past that won’t let go, my most painful, agonizing day
everything
b u r n e d

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

you can’t be scared of something that doesn’t exist,
right?