This isn't about you
it's this all consuming thing. it feels like any second could be the second that i black out in a gas station parking lot. i don't know if this is what it's supposed to feel like, but this is how it feels. there was a distinct sensation. salt on my tongue and salt in my eyes, like swimming in the atlantic for the first time. that's what loving you was like.
the rustling of old receipts blown by the gentle lull of the fan. the quiet itch of the tag in the back of my shirt. the hot flush of redness in your cheeks. the constant and steady drip of water from the faucet. these are the things that i remember.
people leave all the time. that's just how it works. people you love, people you don't love, and a lot of people in between. the light is blue, and i can hear the way you used to say my name. i can see you drinking your favorite beer, that isn't really your favorite beer anymore, in her living room, getting too drunk because you wanted things from me that i couldn't give to you.
my first time at your new apartment, you told me i still smelled the same. there are so many things i wanted to tell you, but they were all just variations of i miss you, and i am so afraid i'll never stop missing you.