Here’s another poem that I had written just slightly earlier than “That Night” on the opposite side of the same piece of scrap paper.
I miss sitting with you.
I remember that day, staring at the rushing Potomac before us
And how your head was in my lap.
We were surrounded by history and new experiences,
But all I could think about was you, just you.
In a heartbeat, three simple words etched themselves on my tongue
And seared the back of my throat
And crushed my chest from the inside.
I opened my mouth and said nothing.
I often wonder if I had said what I was feeling in that moment,
Would everything be different now?
Would this aching core of mine be threatening
To tear me apart with its slashing claws and gnashing teeth?
All these months later, I am stuck once more.
I keep trying to run, trying to fly,
But your gravitational pull is too strong
For me to even leave the ground.
Am I trapped by your will or my own?
Your birthday forces fresh blood
Out of the wounds you inflicted.
How can I put into words how important you are to me
Without being reduced to tears?
So again, I stay silent,
And again, I am filled with what-ifs.