Collection

Fallen.

For Makaya, in the wake of tragedy. (9/3/19)

——————

I knew when she left and you only told me "I told you so" one time—

even though I know you were thinking it.

I knew when I was with Autumn—

when I realized I couldn't kiss her not because she wasn't her, but because she wasn't you.

I knew in May—

as Jacoby and I were wallowing in self-loathing; when you texted me a kiss on the forehead and even through the haze of wine and weed and misery I could feel it settle in my soul.

I knew the entire summer—

when I was home for my mum's birthday, when I asked and you said yes, when I had you and felt like I could fly.

I knew when I was with Imani—

when she was riding me all I could see was you and you were...magnificent, but not real.

I knew when we went home—

when you were with us and all I wanted to do was grab you and kiss you breathless.

I knew when we came back—

when it felt like I left all of me in that car with you when we hotboxed, when watching you walk away hurt like cutting off my own legs.

I knew when I was frozen during the argument—

because I hate to hurt people's feelings but you are my first priority, because parts of me wanted to just block her and have it be over with, because she could never be you and I wouldn't trade you for a million of anything else.

I knew when I decided I wanted to be the one to tell you—

because you deserved to hear it from me, from somebody you loved, from somebody who loves you; because it was a mistake that should've never happened; because that is one of my greatest regrets.

I knew when I found myself typing a ridiculously long paragraph at four thirty in the morning—

because you were asleep but I wanted to talk to you, even though we had fallen asleep on the phone and you were breathing in my ears.

I knew in the days before it fell apart, before we fell apart—

when we were getting back to being on good terms and it felt like the world had color again, like the earth started to spin again, when it felt like everything would be okay...when it felt like I would be okay.

I knew when you found out and my heart shattered in my chest—

a lifetime of possibilities gone in a puff of fucking smoke, all my dreams now impossible; me by my lonesome without the sun in my sky, the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins.

And if I knew then? Please believe I know now.

I know when people talk to me and I get angry at them for not being you.

I know when I go to pick the day's music and have to stifle a sob scrolling past our playlists.

I know when I'm doing my daily five minute cry.

I know when I'm crying in the shower.

I know when I'm with my friends, my gang, my family, and all I want is for you to walk through the door so I can get down on my knees and beg for another chance.

I know when I'm doing heavy drugs and the only thing I want is to hear your voice and see your face and touch your skin and breathe your air.

I know when you appear in every thought process I have.

I know when it hits me that life without you is going to kill me.

I know when it hits me that I don't care if I live or die anymore.

I know when I'm alone, like I am right now, and everything hits me like a bullet shattering a window.

I know when my body tries to make me really cry for this, the loss of us.

I know when I refuse because if I cry it means this is over, means I have to let you go, means I have to spend forever trying and failing to find somebody who is going to love me the way you did.

I know when everything around me is grey and dark and lifeless and useless, when everyone around me seems to drain the very life from my veins, when it feels as though I'm rotting from the inside out.

I know I fucked up. I know I made the wrong choices. I know I lied and cheated and did everything I hated my father for when he did it to my mother...

and I'm sorry, Makaya.

I'm sorry that I chose her, I'm sorry that I fucked her, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you right after it happened the way that I wanted to.

I'm sorry for hurting you, for breaking your heart over and over and over and over again. I'm sorry for making you feel as though you aren't worthy of being loved, I'm sorry for making you think you're not enough in any way, and I'm sorry that I cannot fix this.

I'm sorry that I didn't love you right when I had you and I'm immeasurably sorry that when I finally accepted what I'd known all along, when I was finally firmly on the right path, when we were finally getting everything right...

everything blew to shit.

I'm sorry it's my fault everything blew to shit.

I love you and I'm sorry you ever met me.