The One Who Got Away

I’m supposed to be studying… 
I’m nervous. 
I’m scared. 
Normally I’d call you and explain why I’m weary,
but that’s just not an option. 

I went from crying to you to crying over you.
I want to tell you that I miss you, 
but that’d be a waste of words. 
Today I have a final for that really hard class I told you about…
But I’m on the couch typing this poem. 

You always do that to me:
Overtake my  thoughts. 
You invade my emotional space and diminish other things of importance.
I’ve got to get these problems right,
but I wish that I could make things right with you. 

And I hope that as I type this,
you’re in your bed looking at the spot I used to lay. 
I hope that your arms and legs don’t feel the same
since mine aren’t tangled in between them. 

And maybe you feel just as dazed and out of place as I do. 
I sure hope so.
And maybe, for the first time, you know what it feels like
to have “the one who got away.”

Poet: Stefanie Parrott

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