We met under thundering song and lights that gave us headaches

We left matching footprints in dampened soil and carved initials into bark

We ate overbuttered popcorn at the back row of the theater

When held hands had our hearts beat out of tune

We swam among waters that left our lips salted and peeling

We hid among the purple mallows and ivy

We learned to mold love from wood and words and

We told each other how worthless

we were not.

We looked up at the stars and counted our wishes;

I opened my eyes and you told me they won’t come true

I woke up next morning and you left already with the vase and the sheets and the cups,

Left me dried violets and bottled sodas to spill on a bare mattress

I got to work late because it was always you driving the car

I want you back simply because I can’t stand the taste of the basil

I regret putting in my soup

I want you back

I want you

I want

I —

                                   don’t leave me here

                                   if I write it in my blood and beg will you notice?

We always thought we were

meant to be.

Will you come home to trim the basil again?

— Angelica Z.