Thinking of you

I hate when you text me. Your name on my lock screen

makes it feel like September. Your house has smelled the same since we were three.

Do you remember when we would hide here from the rain?

I don’t want to. Because we’re not three anymore, and it doesn’t rain as much.

We fell out of love, if you could ever call it that.

September was so bittersweet.

Nobody tells you that every moment is one you’ll leave behind.

Maybe you’re expected to know it, but I never expected to miss it.

Life has begun to collect, every experience, every second

adding one on top of the other, a wave

cresting, dragging me along by the ankles.

When will I regain my feet?