Writing this letter for you


Some days I get so tempted.
Just want to call out your name,
put this message in a bottle and send it your direction.
Hope you find it in the sand as you walk along R beach.

Maybe I would send you a text, But it is past three am here,
and I am hoping she let you fall asleep easy last night.
I don't want to wake you.
I know how precious sleep is these days.

Did I ever tell you I wrote this poem just for you?
"If I were your boyfriend
I would bring you coffee just because it's wednesday,
If I were your boyfriend I would hold your hand and kiss your lips every chance you let me.
If I were your girlfriend... But I'm not."

I was 19 and falling fast for you.
I was 20 and missing the way your hair flew across your face in the middle of a sentence
and the smoke floated up into the wind at the red benches like all our dreams were getting sent up to the heavens...

I thought I could win you over with soft words, strong arms and a short crop haircut.
These days I'm just trying to let it all hang out,
and hope you fall for me because of my flaws.
And maybe my wild curly hair too.
Or maybe you won't,
but I'm falling for you and I  have to let myself think there's a chance you might like me back.

I told you once I wanted to be with someone who would dress up for a date just because.
And you were wearing this short cropped yellow dress that hugged all your curves
And you looked at me, so goddess blessed beautiful, and said "what about me?"

I'm sorry I laughed.
I just got so caught up in my nerves and I thought you were kidding.
Maybe you were.
But I'm here now, and I'm putting all my thoughts down on this tablet.
I wonder if you'll ever read it.
I wonder if I'll ever let you.

Lately I can't stop picturing your wild hair and your beautiful attitude and your vulnerable strength.
And that soft smile.
The way you don't judge me, but you don't let me bullshit either.
The way we can talk for hours.
about politics, or style, religion, your daughter, or the reason it doesn't really matter how long my fucking hair is anyways.
Even mutual ex loves.
Or that this town is just too small and neither of us have been able to stay away too long.

We were highschool classmates.
We were free spirits.
We were hating each other or secret confidants.
We are extremes and moderators.
We are just trying to live this life for a while.
This time around.
And I'm asking you now.
Would you ever consider me to be your next adventure?
The next story you tell.

I've been holding  my tired tongue for so long it seems.
Instead, I wrap my fingers around a beer glass and sip it slowly so I don't accidently find myself reaching for you.
I reach for your cigarette so I can stop myself from grabbing your hand.
Just want to feel our fingers intertwined sometimes.

I want to be your  next mad dash love affair.
Your secret hideaway,
your place to call home.
But most of all,
I hope you know I will always be your friend.
I will always be your friend.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741