I dug up my old year books,

just to see your face.

I bought some old

Tooth and Nail samplers

on Ebay

even though I don’t like

Christian rock anymore.

And I’m still trying to find

the mixtape you made me

as a graduation gift

titled “Morphine For the Soul.”

I’ve been craving

anything

that might bring you

back to me,

even if it’s in pieces

and fractured memories.

I ache for you

and what could have been.

I have your name inside my phone

but I don’t know if it’s your number

or if it ever was.

I’m too scared to call in case it’s you,

in case it’s a stranger,

in case I don’t know what to say.

It’s like a lucky coin in my pocket,

a chance unspent.

It’s probably not too hard to find you

or find out what happened to you.

And if the fantasy ever gets

more painful than not knowing,

then maybe I’ll try.

I write you poetry

you’ll never read

and I fetishize the past

even though

I’d probably rather

kill myself

than be sixteen again.

But nostalgia is potent.

Maybe I’d walk through hell one more time

if it meant I could be with you.

I sing Taylor Swift songs

and pretend they’re about us.

I read romance novels,

looking for you

between the pages.

And I carry this dream of you

with me

everywhere,

wishing it could come true.

If you’re still alive,

I feel like

you’d have contacted me

by now,

receiving all my thoughts

like signals from a beacon

calling you home.

I wish I could be your home.

I’m calling out to you one more time.

Come find me.

I miss you.