I find myself imagining you in crowded, lonely coffeehouses. Sifting through daydreams like grains of sand and letting your drink become a chilled ghost of the warmth it once was. And then I imagine what it would be like if I stopped imagining you and I can’t tell which one would make me happier.
Maybe you’ve outgrown the old coffeehouses you loved so dearly like you outgrew your hometown and football and our friendship. Maybe you’re better at telling the truth now. Maybe you’ve stopped caring about guilt. Maybe you’re less selfish.
I try to imagine these things in you. Not because I believe you to be capable of them, but rather because I believed you were honest and sincere and gracious. Finding out you weren’t took more out of me than loving you did.
I believed in your words and your smiles and your kindnesses. I believed in you with more assurance than I believed in myself. And now I don’t believe in anyone.
On days I don’t imagine you, I still battle, sometimes bravely and sometimes with only cowardice, the quivering organ that used to be my heart. My misplaced trust in you has led me to mistrust everyone.
Sometimes I confuse that with missing you.
But I could never miss you. Because you danced around our friendship shielded by masks so distracting and intricate while I laid bare and heartbroken. I volunteered you as my savior and you never declined.
I’ve fallen asleep with my hand holding the heartbeats of someone else’s hand. I grasp and try to communicate my pleas and promises in the intertwining of our fingers. I wish that I could tell you more; I’m trying my best, said with a squeeze or the tracing of my thumb across theirs.
I am trying my best, all things considered.
So don’t come to Chicago. Your feet don’t belong on these streets; these buildings, pathways and pedestrians, and these stories are not for your ears or eyes or heart. Stay wherever it is that your life has led you. Smile in every photograph that is taken of you and let people wonder how genuine you are. Fly, walk, run, drive to anywhere in the world, but let Chicago be mine. Let me spend some sporadic time imagining that you are better than you were, or else let me spend some time remembering who I used to be while forgetting who you are.
(This was written by Phen and I forever ago. We’ve grown up but never changed.)
This is why i dont want to fall in love It’s happened before Everything was going fine Then things started racing through my mind I never thought A relationship could be I couldnt picture any girl and me Somehow I found someone Romeo and Juliet we were Turns out I was just a toy for her She turned her back And said I wasn’t ready for this Being with me wasn’t her bliss So she ran away I ran and ran to find Someone to hold and call mine I saw her smile But I saw her bleed Her broken heart was just what I need We walked and talked And all was well Then my life became a living hell And just like before She took my soul And into it drilled a hole She poured in compassion And showered me with passion
There now sits empty where once was full You have left, for my weight too much to pull I now stand alone, confused in these days The story’s been told, your pen now strays Symphony complete, with no more movements Renovations halted, no desire for improvements Questions are unanswered and will die as such The conversation extreme too sensitive for touch It was never my intention to end on this note My undying loyalty never made it past your throat This won’t be rewrote, it has died along with us My heart waits in rain, turn your back as it rusts