please come back. please don’t let this be the end. please tell me you’re just on another adventure. you said you would kiss me in august. won’t you keep that promise?
you beautiful, tortured soul. don’t let this be the end. you were happy when i saw you only one month ago. you were eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chopping wood and teaching kids how to play chess at the atheneum. you were their hero. you were happy with your medication, with your situation. we talked about living on the golf course and being old decrepit teachers. we were going to go to australia and live in new york. there were lies and deceptions, but i don’t blame you or myself. i think deep down we were honest with each other, even if people told us otherwise.
you called me lulu bean and held my hand. we sat together, worlds apart from anyone else and that was good. we locked your door and turned on the air conditioning and pretended to sleep. maybe.
i saw you in a tee shirt only once. you were at the green and put your arms on the register to reach out to me. i saw all those horizontal lines, pale white, moving up your arms like the words that you were never able to speak. i wasn’t surprised. it made me love you. more and more. i got butterflies when i went to see you. i felt guilty when i left. i knew it was wrong, that i would get in trouble, but i couldn’t stay away. not from you.
i miss your khakis and your button downs, the creases in your cheeks. those blue eyes and that black hair. it had finally grown back out. the last words we spoke to each other were “i love you.” and i love you. i’ll still kiss you in august.