What Stays for Seven Years & What Disappears?

1.

Collapsing in on myself like a dying star.

The hole left by your absence:

fucked up, permanent, never-ending.

2.

The loss of your youth

lodged in the back of my throat

like a moth encased in amber:

How strange to be forever twenty-four

to fixate on a place in time,

to be trapped there,

to be a static point,

how nice it is too, then, to never

disappoint, to

remain unchanged,

cut short, kept clean,

dust in the wind

blown all through time and space,

the baby,

always the baby,

never having to grow up.

3.

Your last text message is still on my phone,

seven years unanswered.

4.

Shared blood,

shared meaning,

shared space

until there wasn't.

You're still my favorite part of me.

5.

I dream of the woman in San Fransisco

with your heart,

I want to put my head to her chest,

I want to tell her how soft

and loyal and funny

yours was.

6.

Fourteen days from twenty-five,

time eats itself slowly and some

days

it feels like I will be losing

fragments of you,

forever.

7.

What stays

and

what disappears?

Fourteen days from twenty-five,

right when life was opening

up

like a desert bloom unfurled

after a long needed rain:

The last time I heard your voice

I was in Surf Ride in Carlsbad Village,

you called me on the phone, I

walked around touching soft things, listening

to you tell me you couldn't come

to my graduation, but you'd

make it up to me somehow.

What

stays

and

what

disappears:

The last time I saw you

we ate dinner together, we stayed out

late, we laughed on a street corner,

we stole puffs from a vape, we

talked about the future like it

would come clean, like

it wasn't a question, like we knew

what it meant, like discovery

was still possible, like anything

was still possible, like

we could change things, like

we could figure them out,

like there would be space,

like there would be time,

if only the rain would come, if

only things could bloom,

if only time

kept moving.

I stayed

and you disappeared

but sometimes it feels like

the opposite, sometimes

it still feels like I'm the

one disappearing,

like the hole you made when you

left

is

going to

swallow me up.