you were never
anything less than a bomb.
we were never together
into anything less than two separate hearts--
no matter how much i wanted that.
i remember you saying
"baby i know i forgot your name--
but you know you’re coming home with me tonight."

you knew my name the whole damn time.
when you said you didn't like love songs,
you were writing them for me.
you strummed on your guitar strings that summer
and that noise
still breaks me.

i see you remember fights we had
a year ago-- today, as i see you again.
i’ve met so many people on buses
that i should’ve assumed
i would eventually fall upon meeting you
for yet another last time.

you have been sitting next to me
for too long now.
and you’re not really here
again
and i know this feeling
again
and i can’t help but go back to last summer
again.

you weren't such a harsh line when you said
"that's the first time i've slept without nightmares in four years"
that first night i slept over.
i still had my hands wrapped around you
while you pushed me away with your wild hair,
to brush it all down,
you were so beautiful that morning.

but its all settled now.
the bomb has been long lit and fired.
i’m just trying to spread the smoke that’s left.
there isn’t quite enough room to do it here.
i don’t know if you’ll ever be spread far away enough
for me to forget your smell.
there’s still sweat on my new lover’s jacket
from our silence.
and somehow i know that
we won’t need to make peace
anymore.