Clarity is a high 

I will kill myself chasing. 

I still write out texts 

I know she will never read. 

I never hit send, but not 

for lack of trying. 

It's just I deleted her number 

when I unceremoniously dipped 

out of her life. 

And I know that it makes no sense 

that I still want to talk 

to someone who I never actually knew, 

but the person I thought she was 

is intoxicating-- 

I miss her. 

I wanted to set sail with her, 

but the ship 

I thought we were building together 

I was building alone. 

And when I thought it would be home, 

she was just passing through. 

Visiting, in comfort, in what I thought 

would be the rest of our lives. 

And I keep thinking:

If I keep writing to her, 

with texts, like messages in a bottle, 

then I could throw them out 

into the waters we used to frequent together. 

At least then I would know, 

that maybe she would read one, 

and decide that she wanted to find 

her way back to us. 

But like I said: 

there's no number. 

And she's not searching the waters

we never 

set sail on

trying to find me. 

She's not looking.  

All I have left of her is a memory, 

a ghost. 

Haunting a ship 

that never raised anchor.