Hiking

Turn The Light Off When You Go

My eyes are very green today

And they reminded me of you

The way they billow in like smoke

And lie about the truth

 

Truth is…

I’ve written just as many poems

In your absence

As I did when we first met

 

They were exciting then

Adventurous

Telling tales

Of hikes in snow

 

And resting there, by waterfalls

 

And all that I have written now

Is about the way time has shifted silently

In the days since you’ve been gone

How the aching in my hollow chest

Is working its way out

Through the surface of my skin

 

And today…

My eyes are just as green

As the path that I refused to travel down

On our way that day

To our swimming hole

That I’ll never get to swim

 

When really, they should be gray

Like the days have felt

Without the color seeping in

And my eyes smiling shut

In the blinding brilliance

Of your love

Let Me Get This Off My Chest

Ugh. There has been so much lately that I’ve wanted to say, and it has all piled up. I’ve started blog post after blog post, never finishing or sharing. At this point, I feel like I’m going to explode.

And Also, I don’t even know where to begin.

I am going to start with a letter to someone whom I shall not identify. People who know me will know who it is.

To You:

After you left, I started my memoir. It is going well, and I appreciate your contribution. I was so thrilled to start it, that I did not get sad about your departure. But, in the days since, there is much that I have missed.

The way you appreciated my athleticism and my dedication to running. I’ve been told since that I’m either not a runner, because I’m slow, or that being slow makes you “bad at it.” No one has appreciated my hard work like you did. It made me feel good, and now I’m feeling like I’m not even a “real” runner.

I watched a segment on CBS Sunday Morning about the California redwoods that made me think of you. It made me cringe to hear about how 95% of them had been destroyed, and I couldn’t even watch old footage of them being cut down. I saw the prettiest tree yesterday while lying on the ground, and thought of you.

I miss our hikes. I’m not sure it’ll ever happen again. Here, at least.

Now, that you’re gone, the end seems so petty. What a waste.

There’s a lot I miss that I will not post, but it’ll be in the book.

I pray for you at night, though, when I’m going to sleep… That you go where you want, and get the job you want, and find happiness, and beat your demons. That doesn’t make me feel stupid. I will always pray for people I love. But missing you does. And caring.

The last time you told me you loved me, I didn’t say it back, and that’s the only thing I regret. If there were only one thing I could say to you, it’d be that.

I honestly, did not realize how much I’d miss you. I guess you can never truly mentally prepare for something when you have no idea what it’ll be like. And it is harder than I anticipated.

And in an “I’m not going to say I told you so” sorta way, I’m totally not going to admit that I totally hope you miss me too.

No one will ever get me like you did.

“I’m not sorry I met you. I’m not sorry its over. I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save.”