My Head, Heart, and Soul

My hands tug at the hem of your t-shirt, begging you to stay.

You raise your voice again, and then disappear for days.

Slam the door two, three, eight times,

embarrassing me in front of your family.

Hold your rage in your hands, and claim that all of it has nothing to do with me.

Fresh heartbreak turns into years,

I find love in new forms,

and finally enjoy glancing in the mirror.

I read literature, and dream about going big in New York City.

Every night when I go to sleep, I’m grateful to my head, heart, and soul

for forcing me off the wrong road.

But, if I faced that path again, would I be able to turn around?

Sometimes I hear your favorite song in the grocery store, and it still hurts.

Sometimes I’ll try to sing along, but the duet is off, and it still hurts.

Your work uniform, the way the sky looks at dawn, and your last name.

The thought of your parents, the idea of marriage, and video games.

Nothing will ever be the same, including us, and it still aches, like you just left yesterday.

Sometimes I think of you, and it still hurts.