sun’s rising a preview of a sight i rarely see three hours before the thought will even cross your mind the disruption of dreams has bought me this front row seat to the sun rising to a reminder of everything do you remember that poem i wrote last fall where i called you everything everything wanted/everything needed (the lines are so much closer than you’d think) it’s okay if you don’t remember because now i’m realizing that was an understatement “what’s bigger than this?” what’s bigger than everything if there’s anything, it’s you it’s this i don’t quite believe in soul mates we’re not two halves but we fit together the road here’s been winding and it’s okay that we’ve broken down more than a few times i think we’re both inclined to ride the brakes but if a cable were to snap now i think i’d be okay with a free fall thank you for existing, simply the sun is an overused way to describe you but cliches come from something, don’t they? so thank you for pulling me into your orbit

these clothes don’t keep me warm i’m shivering in the rain and wondering if i even exist at all in the space between the streetlights my mouth is dry with deja vu and this pit in my stomach aches with the wrong kind of familiarity as i wonder if i cross the street now keeping eye contact with that little red hand if you cross the street now keeping eye contact with me if there’s a hand clasped in yours a hand that’s not mine if there’s not a hand clasped in yours if i’m not crossing the street but i’m behind the wheel and i can’t see through the stoplights through the rain (the rain or my tears, it’s all the same when you’re a god and don’t i fucking wish) if a thousand hypotheticals come together if we cast aside a thousand roles if we stand as ourselves in the middle of the street in the middle of the rain in the middle of the universe because how could everything not revolve around you if we cross the street now will we be okay?

remember, remember, the ninth of november do you remember it at all? do you remember january, april, september, december (every beginning) do you remember april, may, october, february (every end) ferris wheels make me sick but i’ve spent the last year with enough chemicals to breathe at the top such a shame those moments were so brief such a shame, how much we fall this is number fifty in an untitled series and i want it to be the conclusion but i know it won’t because i can’t even go outside without thinking of you and every ray of sun reminds me of the words you should’ve read and the words i never wrote i don’t know how to let go i’ve spent so long holding on that part of me wants to believe this will still pay off but what it’s costing tonight is almost too much i’m glad you fell directly into someone else’s arms i’ve been there before, it’s a good way to land i just didn’t realize how cold the floor is for the one that’s left but i’m justifying everything i’ve done with the fact that i’ve never held on during late nights - during pixelated proof that you were so many firsts during every word i thought was meant for the person lying underneath but evidently wasn’t - i’ve never held on during sleepless saturdays just to leave on wednesday but genuinely, i wish you the best i could never wish you anything else even if i wanted to i just wish the definition of best held true to december’s words (do you remember “i think it means a lot that we always end up back here” do you remember “nothing is gonna stop us” i know this might be too far but i can’t forget and i need to know how much you meant and how much of what i lost was my fault i keep looking back and you’d never guess who came up in your next sentence, we should’ve known all these words just make this worse) i don’t want to say that you’ve broken my heart because it’s (un/fortunately) still keeping time but if you have to reset a pulse at least once a month you might lose track of where you started you might lose track of who you are and i am so far from the ninth of november (remember, remember) do you remember it at all?