To sit on rooftops

Revised Sept 


Two things can be true at the same time she says.

Like how I used to write you letters

But you always seemed to hate them,

As they always backfired on me as if you didn’t believe my words to be true.

I gave love, and you made me ache after you said you didn’t know what to do with them or threw words in my face that cut deep.

And both your side and mine are true.

How you broke up with me and cut me off as your friend and the latter hurt far more. It still does. It almost killed me. But why you did it are two different stories.

Yours and mine.

And both are true.

You are now a ghost

I try to resurrect with ink.

Oh how I wish you could be here.

But you keep choosing not to and probably always will even if you promised me you never would leave. Would always be my friend.

I am within and without. And both can be true.

I loved you. More than anyone.

I can’t explain what we had but it’s not what I had after you, which was good, don’t get me wrong.

But no one is you.

I can love everyone new and you.

And both can be true.

Not just anyone or everyone is in my dreams at night.

I still dream of closed doors,

the ones you slammed.

I dream of you but they’re not of love—they’ve turned to horrific nightmares now. About how you left. How I miss you. How unkind this is.

I wake up tortured and grieving.

What’s better?

To be asleep or awake and with you gone?

Neither.

I want to be in neither world.

And both can be true.

Some memories

don’t ask permission to visit.

They just show up,

sit down,

and act like they still live here.

And both can be true:

You shattered me.

And I’ve never been stronger even if I am at my lowest.

You never chose me even though you said you wanted me forever.

You never chose me forever as your friend even though you said you would. I guess I should have read the room, the signs. Like you never adding me back on social media. Never asking to do anything. I always had to. It was all a lie, wasn’t it? And I just gaslit myself that you were a real friend. Right? Or am I wrong? 

So now I choose love that stays. For now.

me. 

This is my truth:

I loved you more than anything.

More than anyone.

and I love Everyone new 

and I’m still learning

what to do with all that truth

in one body.

But if I had to choose

between the ghost of someone I loved and staying friends I’d always choose both or the latter. 

But always the latter. 

But I’d also choose this:

You were a lesson. Oh how I just want you to just be a friend. Not a lesson. MY FRIEND.

Concerts, drinks, dinner, travel.

I’d choose that over love any day.

And that alone is true.

But if you ever came back—

I’d give anything to have you as just a friend,

just to laugh and talk and sit on rooftops again—

I’d open the door.

Not because I need you.

But because some things

are worth forgiving.

And both can be true.