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i will love you until it hurts and even past that,
until my chest aches with the thought of
your eyelashes and every bit of your life
has been written on my skin.
i will be your pillar of strength. i will love you
after it hurts and after i grow numb and grow apart
and we find ourselves on opposite sides of the country,
like branches on a tree that grew bigger
than we could ever imagine.

i will keep your city circled on every map i place
on the walls of my room, like a reminder
and a to do list and a promise all in one. you have
etched yourself into every corner
of my brain and i have stopped trying
to catch myself thinking about you because
most days my thoughts are running too fast
to ever even catch up with
and they always seem to lead back to you.

and right now my veins are only half blood
and half holy so i know this isn’t a poem
that needs to be written but i also know
already that if i don’t get this out, tomorrow
morning i will be crouched in front
of a toilet bowl again, throwing up half digested
food and words and fragments of poems
i will never find the courage to send you,
and please trust me when i tell you there is nothing
holy about feeling that dirty.

and my dirty laundry should be aired or else
it’ll never get clean, and the skeletons in my closet
deserve a proper funeral or else these ghosts
will never stay buried.

this is just to tell you that i would have loved you
until it hurt and probably even after that
if i know anything about myself at all.