sometimes I wonder if you ever think about us.
I know,   
it wouldn’t be right to admit it
out loud,
like if I let the truth spill from my lips
I’d be committing a crime
worse than keeping it to myself.
like if I ripped open my chest
and let you crawl in,
you’d only come out with bloodshot eyes
and hands reaching
for her.
because you and I
we can talk about everything
in the world but not that
no, not that.
and I can show you all my colors,
even the oranges and browns
but not that one.
not the glow of moonlight you left on my lips,
not that one.
because talking about that would make it real again
and I guess we don’t want it to ever
be real again.
because maybe I missed your fingers
brushing my hair behind my ear
even though I told you I hated it. 
because you were a bouquet of white roses
and I was a clenched fist
around your thorns
and even if you couldn’t tell from that angle,
we both
made each other bleed. 
because maybe my hands were always too rough
and maybe I was sandpaper when you
were already soft enough
and maybe we were just kids with wild hearts
who had yet to realize that nothing
can stay wild forever. 
because everything about it was young and unpracticed
and we tried to teach each other something
neither of us really knew in the first place. 
because even after ocean tides aligned for us
even after the sky got down on her knees and prayed,
we were too dumb
or too proud to look up.
because some things
are better left unsaid.
because I’ve always
hated that saying. 
so I’ll fall asleep
in the arms of uncertainty
and hope you’re somewhere safe
hope you’re somewhere warm
hope you know that if you ever need anything
anything at all,
then the rest of the world
can wait.