i carry 24 small letters addressed to you in my wallet
8 playlists about you always blasting through my ear buds,
a folder full of documents written for you in my notes app,
7 saved voicemails that always make me cry,
some pictures, a couple screenshotted conversations to look back at,
18 videos of me talking to the camera as if you're there,
and 59 poems.
All waiting here for you. all trying to tell you.

We are divinely broken,
your gold blood hanging off my fingertips,
my breath curling down your throat.
My holy sword parrying your scythe.
A battle for the souls of humanity,
but my soul has already been tainted,
because your body awaits me when I drift into a world of dreams,
dear love of mine,
this mosaic we have painted,
cannot stay without shattering.

we're people who have grown up feeling so isolated,
we turn the music up just to stop feeling alone.

This dark is swirling,
stuck inside this house,
crawling and itching and building in my head,
the silence so loud, the shadows so quiet.
i wander, pulling a blanket over my shoulders,  
opening the back door and stepping out under constellations.
The wind is cold and cars move in the distance,
small lights heading to their little homes.
  the street is illuminated below our balcony,
barley aglow in the new fog.
I lean into the rustling wind, resting my arms on the cold railing.
I hear a whisper in the back of my mind,
quiet and comforting, the way God always speaks to me.
This invitation to talk to the heavens, to the quiet world.
And it's all I can do,
to talk about you.
I look up at the moon and tell it about how you laugh.
tears slip past my cheeks as i tell the angels how sweet you are,
and how you hide it.
I tell God how strong you are, as if he doesn't know.
And I'm comforted,
because we talk to the same god, under the same sky.
And maybe one day, it'll be okay again.
so I go inside and walk up to my room.
I close my eyes, under my covers, and dream of you.