in the middle of almost

i have learned

a great deal about you

by studying

the way you withdrew.

the structure behind your sentences.

the way you abbreviate affection.

calls that ended before softness.

how your body felt beside mine

while some part of you

was always halfway

out the door.

you want closeness

until it gets too close.

you want my hands

until they learn you.

you wanted to be known

until i knew you.

you wanted to be seen

until i saw you.

no more

reading you to sleep

i write letters to your ghost.

when i'm bored

i tie rocks to clouds.

every time

i crossed the bridge

you swore you wanted crossed

you built another one.

i watched

as you twisted love

into a threat.

watched as you sculpted desire

into a castle.

four walls here

a locked room there

a moat here

a drawbridge there.

you made the corridors so long

i can still hear

the cadence of your voice

whenever you opened up

saying come closer

i want to be closer

but your steps

went the other way.

for what it's worth

i think you love the most

when you are farthest away

when you're a voice trapped in glass.

a silly nickname in my phone.

when i'm just someone

you can miss

without having to endure

the terrifying intimacy

of being noticed.

was there salvation

when you lowered your guard?

your head on my lap

your laugh slipping past your defenses.

my hand on your thigh

in every car ride.

our sky-high hugs

on every hello and goodbye.

do you feel completely yourself

1,780 days later?

do you know

those tender moments

still keep me up at night?

beneath your leaving

was someone aching

to be held on to

but you fear the arms

even when mine asked nothing of you.

you want love to prove itself

by making it survive your absence

and i have survived it

over

and

over

until i missed you

more than what is left of me.

when i hear your name

something opens again

and i still haven't learned

how to fasten a tourniquet.

the hole you left in me

makes a song when the wind blows.

they ask what you're up to

and i don't know how to fill

the colossal blank

where a life should be.

our shoes by the door

your face nestled against my sternum.

i grieve things

i never had.

here we are

not lovers

not strangers

two bodies

held in orbit

through distance

and nostalgia

the moon

and jupiter

forever pulled

toward each other

close

but never

close enough

to touch.