Scabs

I visited my old blog today and read the very first piece I ever wrote about you.

Five years ago in October. Overcast.

I think about the girl who wrote that all the time.

An 18 year old train wreck you somehow managed to put back together.

Even for just a little while.

You were the sun that spun my world.

I still watch you sleep sometimes.

But these days, October gazes at nothing but questions.

She looks on, poised with questions she doesn’t even know she has.

I love songs that sing a full surrender to love.

There’s something beautiful about being swept up and rained on.

An invincibility that comes with being eaten whole.

I let it wash over me once.

I came up for air and now I’m afraid to swim.

I see her in the curling waves of five years ago.

I want to warn her that she’s about to drown.

She glints and gleams and dances —

Each time, she sinks.

///

I think about all our happy summers. Missing you.

Hearing you miss me.

Hours of phone calls. Strings of messages.

Aching for your visits. Aching for you.

Songs that sang my full surrender to you.

Sitting on the swings late at night and swatting away mosquitoes.

Talking about our childhood. Growing a tree in the middle of our house.

Your surprises. Your kisses. Your desire.

Your kindness. Your attentiveness.

I don’t know when I lost you, but I did.

You changed. I watched you change.

So I changed right along with you.

///

I want to find you. The first you.

Tell you that I’ll hang on to you.

I miss you.

Nevermind that you lied.

You can raise your voice if you want.

You can watch whatever you want.

Talk to whoever you want.

Post whatever you want about me.

I’ll do it all over again. Just come back.

I miss you all the time.

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