On You

I’m thinking about you again, 

and I’ve finally let the fine wine of bitterness age,

grow darker in flavor. Get heavier.

I let it turn our memories sour,

no longer remember where flowers bloomed

as your fingertips traced my scars.

Remember how you called me manipulator,

attention-seeker, unable to keep myself alive.

I don’t mind letting the good memories go

in favor of the painful. I let the hurt ache.

I don’t mind hating you are much as I used to.

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I wrote about the girl I look for in the cracks. I’m wondering if she’s still in my storybook, hiding behind the finished pages and twisting through the run on sentences. I fell in love with her once. Her hands could outline my very existence. I fell in love with her a second time, no romance was needed to light this fire in my heart. She was a daffodil in the rising moonlight, all bathed in silver and sparkling glamour. I wonder if this silver-screen movie star would ever look back down on the people she left on earth. The people she exchanged for a handshake with the man in the sky. I don't know if God is real but if they are they must love practical jokes because while she was nearly allowed to join the angels I had to sit here and ponder the best way to call her.

I’m still in love with her. Romantic feelings aside, I look for her in every winter moon. In every fallen leaf I tear apart my trees looking for the branches that could support her where ...