I can wish for you daily,
But all I get is the wind on my face in the dead of the night.
I can text you weekly,
But all I get
Is nothing.
No reply.

I had a conversation with you a couple months ago
You said, "Write a poem about me."
And I agreed.
But my mind seemed to scream
No actually it seemed to bleed the phrase, "Break my heart first."
Well guess what here's your 20th poem
That's right I counted.
And you know what that means?

That my heart,
Is broken.
And im talkin
That, "ripped down the middle" type of
Broken
That "torn into pieces" type of
Broken
That "hanging on by a strand thinner than floss" type of
Broken
I'm
Broken
And no amount of tape, glue, or meds can fix it.
Only you.
You are the MD that im calling for.
The answer to my prayers that im hoping for.
The air that im gasping for
Will you answer the call?
Will you,
Fill these lungs with air?
Don't just,
Leave me here
With my thoughts.

You see these days your face runs through my mind like replays.
And I can't seem to find the remote.
Clothes littered on the ground below
The train sounds in the background
Cicadas call in the trees
And your name beckons to me
I'm trapped now.
In the chains of my past.
Haunted by you.
You're floating in my reflections
In every mirror and every glass

I want to see you.
Embrace you.
Just like the past.
But you're hundreds of miles away.
Makes me wish I would have
Hugged you tighter,
Listened to you longer
So that I wouldn't have forgotten by now.
So that I,
Remembered vividly every one of your voice inflections.
Every facial expression
Every playful punch to my midsection.
Makes me
Wish I would have told you
That I think you're the best
A little rough around the edges
But imperfection only makes us all the more perfect I guess

I swear to God,
Your scent is my high when you pass by my side.
And I'm overdue for my fix
How I want to see you sport that flowing beige dress
With curled hair just above your shoulders.
The thought alone makes my pulse jump.
I shudder.
And then I'm rocked by sadness because it is just that.
A thought.
And it breaks me more and more
Every day
If you would have told me a year ago that my thoughts of you would be the one to break me
I would have laughed in your face.

You said, write a poem about me.
So,
Here you go.