i'll write about a love i never had.

in the morning i'll give you a call

when i decide whether or not we can still talk

(or be in love)

or any of the other half-winded movements

we made up to get by, and then...

and then maybe we can talk about how i loved

(and you loved)

and how we almost always fell in love with

how

we both wanted the whole stretch of the universe

(for ourselves but not for us, my love).

and then we can sift through the silence and the static when

we can both touch (and go) on how

it never came to us because we dreamt

with our eyes open

and breathed in a stagnant air

we only caught in between dreaming and living.

and i hate you for everything you made me give up

to be anything but myself

and i love every goddamned false image

i built up around you

so i wouldn't have to think about what we aren't.

and i'll write about a broken heart i never had,

but maybe then i can figure out why you stop and start

the way you always did

and never will around me again.

and why'd we stretch so far?

i could never not love the way

you move in the morning

and i could never love the way you won't.