I don’t know if 10 years later, they show me a picture of you, I’ll remember who it is. Unless they remind me of the feeling.
I could write books about the feeling.
I probably won’t remember how you say you hate your voice when you sing, because somebody told you you’ve got too much vibrato. Forgive me if I don’t remember your tics, and how your eyes twitch at the mention of socialism. My god, it appalls me how much you could give up for those who taught you to despise your own voice.
I won’t remember the books you’d asked me to read and how we’d decided to stay gold together. I won’t remember the day I told you I like girls and you said oh, I always wanted a gay friend. I won’t remember how I could never tell when you were joking. I won’t remember about all the times we cried together and how much I wanted to taste your tears. Mine reek of heartache, but you’ll never know. I won’t remember how you told me I’m beautiful. I never liked beautiful anyway. Tell me I’m fat but it’s okay. Tell me I’m out of this world. Telling me I’m fucking crazy. But don’t give it to me any other way. There are only so many adjectives society can ruin.
I do not believe in binary emotions. But you make me feel all the in-betweens. Please forgive me for not remembering how beautiful you and I could have been. What good is love if we don’t die fighting for it? Please forgive me when I’m ailing, and too scarred to fight for things I cannot win. I’m not giving up. It’s just my way of saying we can stay gold, without each other. No, I’m not a word-weaver. I’m not a word-anything at all. In fact, we both know you’re better at words than I am. There are so many things I’ve been trying to tell you,
so many poems I had hoped you’d understand,
so many stories I wrote about you, saying you are the most magnificent manifestation of the universe itself,
you are the most beautiful collection of stars strewn together, i hope i could wear you across my neck,
i don’t mind if you strangle me,
how different is love and asphyxiation anyway?
We both know how terrible I am at putting words together. Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe this blinding, colossally overwhelming feeling steals all my words away?
But as long as you’re listening, I hope you believe me when I say yours is the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. I didn’t have to say beautiful. I could say ethereal, I could say surreal, I could say spellbinding. But no matter what I forget, I hope I remember all the things that you taught me,
like how I should never let the world define my adjectives for me,
or what home feels like,
and how broken can you be before you find a smile that heals,
or how fucked up life can get at 15,
but thank god, i had you to stay gold with.