pigeons flying over bushwick

Words I’ll Never Say To You

I still think about the way you held my hand on the first date and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to kiss me. There was snow all over the ground yet I was suddenly warm. I kept slipping on the ice but was never afraid of how fast I was falling.

Nobody made me feel as comfortable as you did. You assured me that there was no pressure to do anything I didn’t want to do. So I melted into you. Everyone who saw me after said I had a glow. Only you could make my happiness shine like that.

I’ll never forget the way you kissed me. On the forehead in your laundromat. Lifted up in your kitchen. Saying goodbye in front of the subway. Soft and slow or rough and fast—it was always the perfect pace.

Or the way your arms wrapped around me. On your rooftop. In your bed. I can almost feel you against me now.

When I was stressed out about college, you helped me study. You reassured me that we would find a path that would make me happy. You never made me feel lesser than for not having it all figured it out. But I still felt like I had it all anyway because of you.

There’s rarely a day where I don’t think about you. I imagine being with you. I wake up to the reality that you’re no longer in my life. But it doesn’t change the way I felt. Or feel.

You’ll probably never know how I feel because I’ve never told you outright. Perhaps you’ve always known because it was impossible to ignore. Or maybe you still read my words. One thing I know is you’ll live forever in them. And that’s okay with me. You’re worth my words. The world. It all.