Did your heart flutter knowing I was watching you from across the room? Or am I the only one whose pulse races at the thought of being admired? I could feel your curiosity, mirroring mine. Connections like ours aren’t meant for the real world—too fragile, too exposed. Souls like this can’t survive the surface. Saying it out loud would shatter the illusion, break the spell. So we keep our secret, just ours to hold. Meet me in our dreamworld any night you want. Where what-ifs never have to end.

Hey you,

It’s wild how we’ve been apart longer than we were ever together, yet I can still feel the way your hand fit in mine, riding around in your VW. I couldn’t believe my dad actually let me have a boyfriend—let alone one with a car. We had no clue what we were doing at 16, but we dove in anyway.

Slow rides with slow vibes provided by Kid Cudi, and your moms weed you prayed she wouldn’t notice you’d stolen.

I still think about your mom—how she loved me just because you did. Maybe even when you didn’t, and probably still.

Your sister and I still check in sometimes. I always admired how she looked so sweet but still raised a little hell. And how much she loved her little brother.

I used to dream about our future—would we have a boy or a girl first? Would we stay here or take off somewhere new? It didn’t matter. As long as we were together, I was all in.

Remember when I had to have a waffle, but it was 1pm and the local diner was closed? You drove me an hour away to Denny’s just for me to order chicken fingers and fries. Thanks for meeting me with laughter instead of annoyance in that moment.

When it ended, I was crushed. But even then, I was grateful. Thank you for being my first love, for giving me something so sweet to look back on. It wasn’t forever, but it was real. And that’s enough.

I’m proud of you.

Always, Your first.

Thank you for rubbing my back as I fell asleep at night. I don’t think I ever told you how much that comforted me.

Thank you for making lunches and dropping the kids off. Those slow mornings mean everything to me.

Thank you for giving me another son. A reminder of everything we’ve built together.

Thank you for showing up for two boys you didn’t create. The way you’ve ensured we never go without is the greatest reassurance—proof that you’ll always be there.

Thank you for slowing down. Thank you for putting us first. Thank you for meeting everyone’s needs before your own. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

Thank you for letting me in. I know how hard it’s been to tear open the chest you’ve stitched shut so many times before.

I promise this is the last time. I’m so grateful to hold your hand. Proud to call you mine. You’re stuck with me—

I didn’t have enough time with you to remember a single cherished moment shared between you and my dad. You live on in the shimmering diamond earrings your only son gave to his only daughter. In the delicate china plate I cradle close, as if it holds a piece of you. In the fierce way I stand up for myself, the way you would have taught me.

Your daughters tell me how overjoyed you were to finally have a granddaughter after five grandsons in a row. They said you’d been waiting for me.

One of the only photos of you rested at the top of our staircase, And every night, I never missed a chance to say goodnight to your still, smiling face. I could feel the tidal wave of grief wash over my dad every time he said, “I know you don’t remember her, but you would’ve loved her so much.”

Every fleeting moment, every milestone, I knew he wished you were there to see it. And because of that, I ached for you too.

Now, 30 years have slipped by like shadows. I’m six years older than my dad was when he lost you. I visited him one day, and we were treading carefully—still navigating the edges of an argument.

As we said our goodbyes, a hummingbird floated off a flower and hovered toward me. There you were, delicate and vibrant, fluttering in front of my face.

“It’s your gra—” he began to say. “I know,” I interrupted, my voice breaking.

We stood there, clutching the moment as tightly as we could, knowing you were with us. We hadn’t felt you near in so long.

How could something so small, so fleeting, take up so much room in my heart?

January came, and I’m not sure why they call it a new year. All my problems stayed the same. New year, same me.

February rolled in, dragging that damn rodent who decided if the misery would linger or if everything would finally melt away.

March brought a madness for more—a restless craving for warmth. This monotonous life is getting old.

April poured down reminders to be patient. To nurture yourself. Step outside. Let love grow.

May bloomed with fields of hope. Summer called to say she was on her way (though she hadn’t even left the house yet).

June arrived with a humbling breeze. Not every day can be sunny, you know.

July lit up the sky, bursting with life. Days were filled with rejuvenation. We fell asleep sunkissed and starry-eyed.

August crept in, quiet and unassuming. But the heat gave her away—it got 10% hotter the moment she walked in. She left just as quickly, begging the sun to follow her.

September strolled in with a warning: It’s time to get your act together. Just because it’s warm now doesn’t mean the freeze isn’t coming.

October couldn’t make up its mind. A little more fun, it said, oblivious to the fact that winter was knocking on the door.

November overslept by an hour, and somehow, nothing felt the same.

December waltzed in with flurries, eager to wrap things up. She whispered to us to cherish what we have—because we can’t take it with us when she’s gone.

The more you lost, the more I gave. I became everything you needed, Fixing it all, making it better— You never even missed what was gone.

I stayed up all night, Then again, And again. I wanted to say I was tired, But you were tired too.

Every blow I’ve taken isn’t mine— They’re yours. How dare I even think of giving up? If you can keep going like this… so can I.

Except I can’t. And I won’t. And I don’t want to.

So “I give up”

As I looked into your eyes, I saw my future go up in flames. Our love ignited a fire that took out our whole town— I always wanted to give everyone something to talk about.

You dragged me to the top of the wreckage pile. I thought you wanted to keep me safe, But you only wanted to admire all the things we burned.

We hiked over the remains of my innocence, All my past lovers, My favorite music, The clothes I used to wear, All of my “dumb poetry,” And every last one of my friends.

We were hotter than ever, Until I realized the fire was only meant to consume me. Now I stand in the ash, a phoenix rising, While you bask in the heat of your own destruction.

Lost in a field of daisies I found you. You told me the story about the girl you followed down the rabbit hole. I told you my story of the mad hatter and all of his heinous requests to make me small. You were curious and I was curiouser. I told you I wished I hadn’t cried so much and You told me you wished you hadn’t drank so much. We knew who we were when we woke up this morning but so much has changed since then. We were cats without grins in search of that damn caterpillar. With him we could turn these tears to laughter, And come to realization we are all mad here. Even if we were late, that doesn’t mean we can’t begin All in a golden afternoon Under the skies of cloudless blue.