i don’t want to be thinking of you
i’ll be the first to admit
i don’t want to be thinking of you.
on the occasional day,
when i stepped into the market and thought of our texts
when i heard the song about mary and her swaying dress
when i missed falling asleep and soaring with butterflies in my chest
i didn’t want to be thinking of you.
and some moments,
where i typed out my thoughts in a throw-away textbox
where i wished you were more wrecked than me
where i gave into the guilt that groveled my empty chest
i couldn’t help but think of you.
every so often,
hazel eyes remind me of how we’d first met
rich sunsets remind me of how we’d connect
sad movies remind me of how we’d tried our best
i soared too high every time you turned my love into a duet—
perhaps,
i’d forgotten how to land on my feet after soaring
i’m remembering how to embrace the sensation of failing
i remember how to live for loving, instead of loving for living
during those points when i couldn’t dare think of you.
and on most days,
your stiff family photos that made me smile
your witty pickup lines that made me sigh
your escaping feelings that made me crumble
turned into those days when i did know better than to think of you.
but alas, i’m getting ahead of myself,
because i’ll be the first to admit
i don’t want to be thinking of you.