searching for stars

What is love?
What is that one syllable, four letter word
we can throw around so freely.
How can it be light as a feather,
but heavy as a lead weight,
with the power of a hand grenade
to destroy everything.

You told me you loved me.
You loved me, now, after I traveled to Montreal for you,
after we both have moved on
and found boyfriends to occupy our wasted time
you told me you loved me.
And I couldn't say you were too late.
Because we both know it's never been that way
for you and I.

We haven't seen each other
since high-school,
and it's almost easier to imagine you're dead
then to admit you're still alive.
Because if you were dead,
I wouldn't have to make up excuses
for my shattered hopes
for all the times you told me
you were going to be there.
And if you were dead,
I wouldn't feel guilty about not returning any of your letters.
I wouldn't have to pretend the words that bled
off the page open flood gates
in my own skin.
It would be easier to hide from my emotions.

You told me you loved me,
and part of me just wanted to drop everything and run,
run back to you,
like I used to when you only lived
across the street.
But things can't be that way anymore.
Because you have a boyfriend, and so do I.
I live on the other side of the country,
while you linger here by the sea,
the same waters in which we used to dip our bodies.

Being without you
was like walking through the forests back home,
where the vastness of the trees create a dome
where no sun shines through.
I wandered trails of depression and heart-ache alone for so long,
too afraid to admit that no matter who I was with,
it was never the same.
But then through the leaves
little patches of light sprinkle the earth,
and if I keep my eyes on them
it helped me realize that no matter how dark things were
you were still out there,
somewhere.

You told me you loved me.
You told me that in some tiny part of your heart,
you always thought we'd find our way back to each other.
I never wanted to believe it was too late.

What is love?
What is this yearning in my heart
that still aches for your arms,
for you to say my name?
I don't know anymore.
You say I've changed,
and I guess it's true.
I stopped wandering the woods
looking for you.

The End

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