A list of things laced with you
1. my record player: Every time I look at it I see you sitting on my bedroom floor smiling while the tips of your fingers lick the edges of my records. My Bright Eyes album is still pressed against the needle where you left it. I know it was your favorite. I haven’t touched it since you left.
2. The sweatshirt you left at my house: It was a little too big and you used to pull the sleeves over your hands when you were nervous. I still wear it when I miss you. I’ve slept in it every night this week.
3. coffee: you kissed me, tongue dripping in black coffee. You always had a cup or three in the morning. It left you shaky. It left me in love. The smell makes me dizzy. I’m sorry I called you last night
4. The tattered old blanket I’ve had since I was little: you used to wrap us both in it when I was sad. It’s stained with tears and the feeling of your arms around me. It feels like the way you used to kiss my forehead. I’d rather fall asleep freezing than touch it. I wish I could still touch you.
5. My camera: It’s still filled with pictures of you. I’ve missed out on so many sunsets because if I turn on my camera I’ll see you and I think if I see you I’ll die.
6. My voicemail: you left me a message 4 months ago telling me you missed me. i can hardly remember what your voice sounds like but it plays in my head all the time. My voicemail is full. My mother can’t get ahold of me but if I go through my messages I’ll listen to yours and it’ll hurt worse than anything. You still hurt worse than anything.
7. The plant in the corner of my kitchen: I could never remember to water it so you always did it for me but you haven’t been around. It’s dying. Maybe I am too.
8. The fucking stars: You used to make wishes on stars. I feel like throwing up every time I look at the sky but I can’t stop wishing for you.
9. your notebook: you left it on my desk. You used to write when you couldn’t sleep. Most of your poems were about me. I wonder if you write about her now. Sometimes I can taste my heart breaking.