i. in biology they’ll never teach you why your heart beat accelerates at the sound of your name coming from her lips, as if her voice pumps new blood into your veins and she circulates within your system.
ii. your chemistry professors will never be able to explain why her fingers tracing down your spine kick-start a chemical reaction within your chest. nor can they explain how this reaction makes you forget how it felt to breathe before the fireworks made your skin combust.
iii. you’ll tell your art teachers that all you ever want is to paint the perfect curve of her smile, but they’ll never be able to teach you how to turn acrylics and pastels into anything more than the masterpiece that she already is.
iv. you’ll study all of Shakespeare’s literature, you’ll learn the art of metaphors like the back of your hand, but no amount of empty words strung together to form analogies will ever do her justice.
v. you’ve spent twenty years sitting behind a desk learning useless information, when all you’ve ever truly wanted was to learn how to love her with all you have.
i’m sorry you’ll never know about the apocalypses happening beneath my skin.
i’m sorry you’ll never get to see the roads give way and the scars grow deeper.
i’m sorry you’ll never hear the screams.
i’m sorry you’ll only wake up to the aftermath; the dead bodies and the doubt hanging on me, to an entire world upturned between us.
i’m sorry you’ll wake up to the wind knocked out of us, to the oceans spilled onto the floor, to the earth crawling up the walls and reaching for the sky.
on a night like this, you look like every old lover and every new one.
on a night like this, you already carry their faces.
you carry their voices and their laughs.
you touch like them and hold like them and smell like them in the space between your neck and your shoulders.
already, I can see you leaving.
i can see you in far-away airports and the beds of warmer bodies.
i can see you with those people who won’t run at the mention of “alone.”
i can see you with those that have hearts that aren’t so heavy.
i’m sorry that you taste like every last time my heart forced itself to break.
i’m sorry you never get the chance to run.
i’m sorry you wake to all this hurt.