tonight, i sit in my garden (it’s a bench right outside my apartment) and look at the moon, hoping you see her too

there’s nobody else i think of when i look at the moon
i used to think you were divine
in the same lunar way as the moon
(maybe i still do)

last month, i sat in my garden (it’s by the posters of flowers in my room) and cried to the roses about you

there’s nobody else i think of quite as often
i used to worry i cared too much
about the way you think of me
(maybe i still do)

two years ago, i sat in my garden (it’s made up of the twisting roots in my mind) and promised myself i’d tend to that memory

there’s nobody else i’ve had that kind of night with
i used to think that we were intertwined, somehow
that we would’ve found a way to meet, no matter what
(maybe i still do)

---

i still remember that night, of course
i planted that night right by the lilac and the lavender

but it’s hard to experience that night as vividly as i’d like through the layers of my memory // my identity has twisted through the ground like a weed since then // its greedy roots overtook the garden // flowers cannibalizing flowers cannibalizing flowers cannibalizing flowers // my mind is overgrown // if i want to look back, i have to view the world through the lies i told myself //
the truth is buried deep in the soil // but my desperate clawing through the dirt gets me nowhere // i grab a trowel // but feel faint at the sight of blood // as i break the surface // the thorny rose stems that pierce my skin were planted as protection // i hear you // buried in the compost // your words sound like moonbeams to me // i can see it now

the way the moonlight filtered through the sunroof

onto your gentle eyes

your nervous smile

your shaky hands

my beating heart

my beating heart

my beating heart

---

(i’m still in the car with you when i close my eyes)

(i’m sorry that i didn’t hold your hand)

(i’m sure you know it’s yours)

i used to think i’d fall in love with you
(maybe i still do)

(my life is full of love poems for you)

(half scribbled confessions in the margin of my notebook) // (a sentence in my phone) // (a dog-eared page of a poetry collection) // (the words just behind my thoughts)

moonlight thru the sunroof

it’s not what we talked about that night

but i can’t see the moon without thinking of you

whenever i close my eyes, i’m back in the car with you

the moonlight filters through the sunroof

shedding light on my favorite memory

(you’re always in those, somehow)

our lives seem to orbit each other
(i’ve always known it’d be this way)

---

the passage of time will never cease to surprise me. happy two years since we cried about the stars, my friend <3