Digital Diary

I heard your name yesterday 

For the first time since 

Well 

You.

My body anchored to the floor 

The memory of you collided with the ground

And shattered into a million little shards 

They cut me beautifully as I poked through and sorted them

Trying to salvage what my hands were too fragile to keep then 

The syllables landed softly 

But something in my chest collapsed 

Like a shelf finally giving way

Underweight of everything I left untouched 

There was a day

You handed me something fragile 

Three small syllables 

I carried them for years 

Like a sailor carrying matches through a storm 

Afraid of what might happen

If they caught 

The tide was high then 

By the time I found the courage 

To strike a spark 

The water had already begun to retreat 

Carrying you somewhere my voice could no longer reach 

I wonder what could have been 

Had I learned to use my voice 

If all the words I buried 

Had been given air instead

If I had sent up a flare 

Before the tide carried you beyond me 

Would you have turned towards the light?

Taken the time to listen to my voice over the waves?

Or do I only ask 

because uncertainty 

is easier to carry 

than an answer?

Now I live in nostalgia 

For a life that was never mine 

A future I visited so often 

It began to feel like a memory 

Sometimes I drive past your old apartment 

I find myself searching the windows 

The way sailors search horizons 

For ships they know 

Had already sunk 

I imagine the life 

I was too scared to ask for

You moved from there years ago 

Those windows same now belong to strangers

So do you 

I hope one day 

While you’re wandering the produce aisle 

A pile of clementines reels you in 

Small orange buoys floating in a sea of produce 

I hope you reach for one 

And the peel splits open like a distress flare 

I hope the oils conspire against you 

Gathering beneath your fingertips 

Refusing every sink 

I hope the scent rents a room 

Somewhere in your coat pocket 

I hope when you crush them between your molars 

The juices flood your throat 

And for a moment 

My memory catches there 

And becomes difficult to swallow 

And when the memory passes 

I hope it leaves behind 

A single seed 

Small and stubborn 

Still refusing 

To drown