almost everything

you say her name with a smirk on your face and a whisper of sadness in your earthy eyes.
you laugh with them,
anything so they don’t turn away but
the feeling of her name is familiar on your tongue as you choke out
oh yeah. i used to know her i  
don’t anymore.
it’s a lie though, how could you ever forget?

you still remember the gentle brush
of her hair against your shoulder.
the smell of your sweat mingling with her
coconut milk conditioner
as you looked at her like she was so much more than everything.
and somehow your eyes always tangled in her curls when she turned away.
you would long for the kind of cold nights that begged for you to
hold her
leave a whisper of warmth where your palms met hers.
her laughter dissolved your blank face into joy.
she taught you how to love the rain and now it always reminds you of her because
the rain is as perfectly imperfect as she was.

people always asked and you’d answer without thought
she’s just a friend
they’d shake their heads and perhaps later you would too,
because was she?

all you knew then was the way you watched her
like you couldn’t quite believe she was there and
the idea of her being gone left you running to find her,
pulling a smile to her lips because if she left
so would the happiness and

you knew you loved her.

and sometimes you broke a little,
because it was almost everything
but never quite anything.