Still stuck.
Reading those texts you left me.
Remembering.
Every time you needed me.
And I wasn’t there.
I’m still stuck.
Going through all the pictures you showed me.
Deciphering.
What they meant back then.
When I didn’t understand.
Rummaging through that book you wrote me in.
Why you did it that day.
Even when I was away.

I miss you now.
Not with every breath and not with every heartbeat.
But I miss you.
When someone tells me I’m a jerk.
Because I was your jerk.
And I miss you.
Every time I listen to that song you told me you liked.
Your memory comes to me like a summer breeze.
Absent one moment, blowing the other.
I don’t know where I’m going.
With this poem, or whatever.

I’m still stuck.
Hoping to get you back.
Looking at what was.
And what could have been.
If only we had.
Held on.
Tight.

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