“after your very first rave you decided that you liked dancing, so we turned off the lights and twirled around your kitchen. i knew you’d be embarrassed if i looked over at you, so i didn’t. i did, however, listen intently to the floorboards under your feet so that i wouldn’t run into you. it’s a good thing your apartment was on the first floor, it felt like we could’ve glided straight into another universe, another gap in meaning. like that day we screamed along to your music on that 30 mile per hour road IT GETS THE PEOPLE GOING and god, we went, alright. it’s memories like these that make me think i probably could’ve built something around you that wasn’t a moat. but it’s too late to speculate about what if’s when there isn’t a bridge to paint a different color. you make me wonder why i’m so unlovable. why i was important enough to hold in a crowded restaurant at breakfast time my hand against your lips a flower petal descension, but not necessary to keep after the season changed. i hate that metaphor, it’s overused, but we fell apart in the snow and there’s no other way to say that. i’ve given your departure a lot of thought, and i think the problem is that i wasn’t enough of a mirror. you like people that show you who you could be, someday. i showed you who you were and you didn’t always like it. i didn’t always like it. but that’s real life, you know? and maybe it shouldn’t really matter all that much, considering how you’re gone and all, and you’re sitting in a fluorescent lit bedroom blaming me for the secrets that you forgot to keep to yourself, but, you see, i thought i saw you the other day, from across the room. it didn’t really matter either way, if it was or wasn’t. my chest feels the same.”— a toast, by Caitlin Conlon
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cgcpoems: “after your very first rave you decided that you liked dancing, so we turned off the...
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