503 words on an airplane to istanbul

A dream in which I ask you do you remember the tweet about the directory of airports I wrote you love letters in? And you say yeah why? Nothing, I just wanted to hear what your voice sounds like when it’s talking to me again, I know, I’m sorry. Anyway, that’s airport #5, if you count the layovers. Places like Bangkok and Istanbul and also the cities where it started, like Singapore. God, I didn’t hold your hand in Singapore. I dreamed of that kind of thing after. At the time I didn’t realize about the clock. But there’s always something to race against. God, it took me months to stop looking behind my shoulder. Now it’s months and months after and every memory is of a memory is of a memory. What if we both end up in the garden a year after our first date? I couldn’t keep the poetry from my hands that night babe. I never called you that either. I don’t know what this is. I imagine you looking at me with that pre-era disgust. Can I just ask you something. I don’t expect a reply. or anything. A feeling similar to penciled february notes with undeciphered meaning. There’s no sense in asking why. I know. ‘A sort of mania only fools love.’ God. All you want to do is to forget but all I want to do is remember. April’s going to be torture, I can feel it. Late night bike rides yelling I love him to some unknowing wind. Like when I used to write crush’s names on released balloons. God, remember those balloons? Everything falls apart ultimately. It’s just I keep going back to that post-breakup afternoon. The first one I mean. The one with the Disney Princesses. A small happily-ever-after.

I think a lot about the nature walk assignment nowadays. If I could show you one thing, one last thing, it would be that. I’m always on a bus somewhere, window seat, doing English homework. It was the eleventh of December then, a week afterward. Do you remember -- I stiffened the last time -- the last lunch. I think you asked me what was wrong. Forgot to savor, but how could I have know? Acceptance gradually phased out incredulity. And I mean gradually. Always the only awake one on the bus, thinking about the boy whose head is on my shoulder and who’s drowsily asking are you sure it’s not too heavy. I never could believe my luck. So lucky. So unlucky. So anyway, the assignment. I wrote about thinly disguised heartbreak. About being left in the dust. One day I’ll wake up and all the tweets will be gone too. It was so reckless to love you so much in April but it was so worth it, God, if I could redo it. I would love you more on that beach balcony getaway. My love. I would have tried harder to make you stay.

Damnit. That’s what they all say after their love leaves.