I Stay, Swimming

I fell in love with Noah

in July, August, September, October,

and so on,

but all it did was make me realize

that a tiny part of me

immediately belonged to him

the moment we met,

months and months before that summer,

because in that initial second

of introduction,

I became curious about him.

The night we fell apart

was so heavy, it’s too much to recall,

so I stay, swimming in the moments

we did have, and now hold forever;

licking each other’s wounds,

sharing plate after plate of comfort food,

driving over bridges,

talking over politics,

shopping with money we don’t have,

ranting about loss,

crying about grief,

stealing kisses,

and secret handshakes;

being obvious, but trying to hide it,

sitting next to the lake,

pronouncing each other’s middle names,

playing tic-tac-toe,

walking down hills,

watching YouTube videos,

apple cider,

riding the bus,

give, give, give,

take, take, take,

with no one but us to blame

because we can’t stay away from each other.

We were savory and sweet,

one hundred cups of coffee,

celebrating with birthday cake.

We make inappropriate jokes,

have a mutual dislike for the cold,

rely on our mothers to solve our issues,

and together, have gone through thousands of tissues.

We’re resentful of the bad timing,

but I don’t have one regret

because at the end of it all,

he’s my best friend,

and the one thing he taught me

that I’ll always wade through

is true love.