Now, Regret

I love you so much I don't want to lose you

but I feel like I'm going to.

I open my camera roll and just by seeing your smile I'm in tears. Writing this feels weird, like I'm trying to squeeze something out of my misery.

More misery.

All I want is to see your face

walk through the door, and have it all be okay for a moment.

If anything,

I hate myself.

For missing the right words,

the right gestures.

For not knowing how to touch you. For not loving you in a way proportional to how I feel. I don't understand.

I'm overthrown by my old anger,

my old grief.

And you're smiling because you have to. I hate that I made you have to. Your happiness disarms me,

crushes me

under its purity.

God, what am I saying? That you're incapable of heartbreak? That you don't wash your tears in the sink? In your solitude,

when I'm gone,

do you look for that rare photo of me where I look happy and cry?