when people are in love, they celebrate their firsts: first date, first kiss, first house, first baby. when people like me lose people like you, they mourn their lasts:
the last time i heard you laugh, your cell phone rang and interrupted your piano playing (a rather melodramatic piece from the "lord of the rings" soundtrack). i heard you ask hello, followed by a brief silence, and then you erupted into a loud, resonating laughter. i am so glad, x, that that last hearty laugh was filled with your sincere happiness.
the last drink we shared together, you poured me a healthy glass of grape vodka over ice while you sipped on some gin. we sat on the old blue comforter from your bed and watched "little miss sunshine." the fan overhead rustled the living room curtains, and my cheeks flushed from the room heat and alcohol.
the last words you said to me directly were, "i am going home in a few days. but when i get back, don't be here." you banished me from our hallway, never again to watch your shadows dart under the door as you walked by in the morning. you didn't care where i slept at night, as long as our toothbrushes weren't stored together and i took my coffee table with me.
the last time we were in the same room, i attended a poetry reading at a wine shop after i graduated. you introduced the readers, speaking slowly and nervously into a microphone. your words sounded rehearsed as i feigned interest in a nebulous object slightly above your head. i resisted the urge to wonder when you had purchased the blue button down dress shirt that you wore that evening.
the last email you sent me was a department meeting announcement. i was just another cc, another itemized address on your list, another person you reached out to only to receive fewer replies than questions. reading your name at the bottom of a carefully worded form letter made me realize how foreign you were about to become-- we would exist separately, each like a chapter in different books on unrelated subjects resting on library shelves three thousand miles apart.
the last time that i will tell you that i loved you is here in this love letter, x. i loved you, i am certain. and i miss you-- so much that it hurts-- but you moved on and it's time for me to do the same. i wish you a lifetime of encapsulated poetry, that each new first is an enchanting and inspiring moment for you.
because loving you was my last.
love,
a.
and i ache to remember
all the violent
sweet
perfect
words that you said
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