We need to talk about the last night we met and why these feelings still churn in my stomach like separation anxiety, which is like the thought of being left alone on an island of strangers, of potential cannibals, of not knowing whether I prefer to live on without you, or just die.
We need to talk about how it’s colder during the nights, like I’m in a glass cage of ghosts, how I find it hard to breathe when I think of you, like there are rocks in my lungs, weighing them down, weighing my chest down and I have to straighten my back to breathe.
We need to talk about my drinking problem, about when I caved into buying my own bottle of champagne and cake on our one year anniversary, how often I drink to stop thoughts of you, and how come I only remember you when I am sad or in a haze.
We need to talk about how every man I come across is a sliver in comparison to you, how every girl you meet feels like a monument compared to me, how you were the first to make me feel beautiful without making me feel uncomfortable, and how every guy after you who that reads this will think it’s about him; how you’ll never know that these words are about you.
Before we talk about how we need to talk, when we meet for the first time again, we need to talk about how we don’t talk at all.