one year.

today:
our song comes on the radio. i do not cry.

yesterday:
i stare at you. you stare at me. we do not say anything and yet this is the most we have said to each other in four months. i should have known you would show up. i look you up and down. you watch me do this from across the room. you look better than you used to. more alive. more real. more awake. i make an attempt to smile at you. you smile back. i walk away.

two weeks ago:
you call me. i see your name come up. i have changed it from your name, to love of my life, to asshole. i answer. you are silent. i hear people talking in the background. i realize it was a pocket call. my heart drops. i hang up.

three months ago:
she asks me about you. asks me if i've seen you. i reply no. these are common questions for her. i am happy to be able to say something other than about talking to you again. it has been one month since we have spoken.

four months ago:
i sit in a cafe with you and tell you i can't do this anymore. i tell you i can't be friends, or a little more than friends, or somewhere in the middle. i tell you i can't be anything with you because anything would be too similar to the something that we were. you say goodbye. you wish me luck. i say the same. we hug goodbye.

five months ago:
we keep talking. the words you say make me fall in love with you even more. i think you are an asshole and yet i can not hate you.

six months ago:
you tell me it has to end. you say that you haven't found another girl, that it's nothing like that. you tell me this just isn't something you have time for.

eleven months ago:
you cook me dinner. you ask me if i would like to be with you. i say yes. you smile. i smile.

one year ago:
we meet at a party. you are not drinking. i have had enough to make me less shy, but not enough to make me sloppy. you ask me for my number. i give it to you, expecting nothing but wanting something. you are perfect from the outside in my tipsy haze.  you hold my hand and i hope the night doesn't end.