I Left You At Heybrook Lookout


I’m up here at this beautiful view.
A mile one-way & a nine hundred feet gain of elevation.
And all I could think about was you.

I told myself that once I get back to the bottom, you’d be left up here.
Left in the past.

I thought about bridges.
How I was supposed to
show you this one hiking trail
and the breathtaking bridge that was a part of it.
I thought about how I wrote, “Annabelle & Nick”
on a bridge in Dublin.

Maybe our love will be
like Veronica and Logan’s.
Spanning decades, continents.
With bloodshed and tears.

I thought about all the hikes we were supposed to do.
All the plans we had. All the sights we were gonna see.
Two countries, you and me. One week in February.
We had it planned.
But I guess the same could’ve been said for our Disneyland trip.

I thought about how I shared my favorite band with you.
Their songs remind me of you now.
Everything reminds me of you.

I’m just so frustrated because I spend
at least half of my day thinking about you,
what you’re doing — daydreaming about you coming back into my life.
And you’re probably not sparing me a second thought.

The idea is that I’m supposed to be learning
to live without you, but you’re also learning to live without me.
You didn’t even say goodbye.

I just want to move past this. Past you.

You’re supposed to be in my past,
no matter how badly I want you in my future.
I love you. I will always love you.

But we had a great run.
And even though things are technically up in the air,
I think that your lack of effort and
lack of communication gives me my answer.
We’re done.

Here’s to now. And nothing else.