There were two for you. Two for me.

The kiwis I never got to share with you

Sat in a bowl, sliced open by my sister.

I intended to let them rot in the fridge,

But she found them and fed some to her daughter.

I didn’t know looking at fruit could hurt

Until I watched the amount of kiwi left decrease.

Maybe I looked as hurt as I felt because

She turned and fed some to me.

It is unnecessary to send this to you because it’s enough to know my intentions. I won’t send this, but know I mean every word with all that I am.

Let our memories of each other be enough to convince us that this distance is good, because it is. Every single second I spent with you has never fallen short of perfect. I will believe in myself more, live my life for me while you live your life for you, and if we are in the future, you will be welcomed by a me who is better suited for you— for friendship or more.

There are things I want to say, but I will say at least this for now.

17 seconds or thousands of miles away.

I understand unless I don’t. Though… surely, I will see you around.

If it’s meant to be, we’ll cross paths again. I pray to God, let it be a time we’re ready and more willing. If not, the respect and love I have will always be there in the space made especially made for you. It’s been something more than beautiful: the experience of sharing time together.

All I gave, I gave freely. You owe me nothing. But I owe you this: I’m so sorry.

From my heart and whole being to you, [name], [inside joke nickname], [actual nickname], future small claims judge, future owner of a bookstore-marijuana-dispensary-hole-in-the-wall-pizza-place, certified Mt. Cleverest climber (with your awful puns, but mine were always worse), wonderful and terrible human being, my dear, my friend, my dear friend, thank you.

Thank you for everything.

I want to stay.

I’ll walk away,

But this book’s

left open

Just in case.

He places his palm on the side of my face

Runs his other hand down my waist

My mind is mostly blank

I have but one thought:

No where else, not in another place,

Can I melt and mold and create

Like I do in this little room today.

He places his tent inside my brain

Setting a fire never doused by rain

Paying his rent with words and gestures

I let him in willingly

I’ll take the pain, the weight of the wait.

He can stay. He can stay

Like I do in this little room today.

Choking back tears

By shoving three spoonfuls of

orange-flavored Jell-O into my mouth

Was a talent I didn’t know I had until

I did it in an ICU room while

Watching my grandma die.

She was a little mean, but the last

Thing she told me before she lost her words

Was that she left me $20 in my car for gas.

She was a little selfish, but when I was a child,

She would hand-feed me rice and fried eggs to

Make sure I never went to bed with an empty

Stomach.

I love and miss her very much, that woman.

The least I could do for her in a room

Full of family already mourning

Her impending death was to not

Let her hear me cry.

On an afternoon in the middle of January, I’m glad I kissed her forehead.

I’m glad I told her, “See you tomorrow.”

Maybe that was comfort enough.

She died hours later.

Her hand was still warm when I arrived that night.

Her face relaxed and

Peaceful.

I held in most tears, shoving them into

The black hole that consumed

All my other neglected emotions

But what that resulted in was my inability

To grieve for her properly

And my inability to

Eat orange-flavored Jell-O the same way again.