ALWAYS TRYING TO SAY SOMETHING

today is the first time since you left that i have allowed myself to cry. i am surprised at how tangible this grief is, how it keeps reappearing, manifesting itself. the empty parking spot. the things we didn’t do. the drive home. how my hands did not know how to hold a steering wheel. i am trying to tell my heart to calm down, trying to convince myself that a love like this does not adhere to normalcies. i am working on giving myself something to come home to. your bedsheets are nostalgic, and so are your socks, and so is your tshirt, and so is the other pair of socks you do not know i took. i wear them everyday. again and again, pulled over leggings, hidden under jeans and stuffed into boots. i can still hear the ocean, and me asking if we can turn around. I can see the pier from here and that has to be enough. my heart will always be carved into the sand. what i’m trying to say is that there is an empty parking spot in front of my house and it has been there since you left. what i’m trying to say is i do not know how to get out of bed without you here.