For The Love of Writing

[4theloveofwriting]

D E A R F R I E N D

missing you comes in waves.

most of the time I live in the shallow water, admiring the tide pools. but then the tsunami hits. and damn—does it hit.

and tonight i just miss you.

for some reason i just wish you were here so we could do something fun or exciting or new or spontaneous. There is never a dull moment with you.

I miss the random shenanigans we used to get into or the drives with you or just sitting in the car and talking until we have to reluctantly part.

and right now, today, for some reason i miss my friend. i don’t only miss you romantically. I just want my frien here.

sometimes i wonder if you think of me the same way. you said that you talk to me for hours at a time and that’s only something best friends can do, but i’m wondering if you actually believe that.

do you ever miss your friend being around, too?

[4theloveofwriting]

N I G H T T I M E D R I V E S

nighttime drives give me time to think.

to think about how much has changed in the past couple of years.

to think about how you used to be just a boy I barely knew on the other side of the counter.

to how I consider you one of my best friends now.

to how I consider you the love of my life now.

it’s funny how those two things can be wrapped up in one package without any questions asked.

it’s funny how confident I am about it when it used to be something I wondered about.

but I like this feeling.

only be lovers seems so fragile.

it feels like a half stuck on label that at any time could be ripped off, the sticky residue left behind.

but when I think about how I love you enough to be my best friend, too, it changes things.

I am comforted in the thought that I consider you a friend.

 and for me that makes all the difference.

[4theloveofwriting]

H O M E

they say home is where the heart is but

i’m not sure where my heart is

anymore.

 i cried on the plane over

and frankly on the plane back,

but my tears in between were for

those i’d have to leave behind.

the faces i’d grown to love. the

faces of friends and the face

in the mirror I saw every morning.

for the times I felt young & alive

in cities that didn’t even know

my name.

for the memories i actively made

and the ones that i stumbled upon.

i cried sadness because when would I

see them again?

and I cried joy because the

11-year-old dreamer would

have been so proud.

i went away knowing who I am

and came back knowing who I wasn’t.

dreams start and dreams end but my dream

got hazy.  they give us four years to build

an identity but I only needed three months

to re-build mine.

 they say home is where the heart is but

this doesn’t feel like home.