i remember:
i wove a yellow ribbon 
through the parachute cord bracelet 
you gave me that valentine’s day.
the one where you had almost convinced me
to leave my abusive ex.
that you’d take me away from here–
sweep me off my feet–
never treat me like that.
but then you flew across the world
and left me alone in more ways than one.

when you were gone again,
this time at war
(like–for real),
i put a dumb ass yellow jojo siwa-style bow in my hair.

i cried at the air port.
happy people all around me,
staring at me like i had half of my body missing.
(it was.)
i stayed at the window and watched until i couldn’t see the plane anymore.
that was really goodbye.

i prayed EVERY DAY 
to a god i didn’t even believe in anymore,
hoping and begging and pleading 
that you’d come home in one piece–
or at the very least, safe.

i did my duty.
i kept myself busy.
i took on three jobs.
i had to get my professors to sign off
on the ridiculous amount of hours i was taking.
i drank myself to sleep at night.

and then i’d dream of you.
we were floating in a sea of sand.
but it was cold.
and so were you.

i didn’t know until you stepped off the bus
and back in my arms
that my prayers weren’t actually answered–
that my dreams were actually a vision–
that i’d have to wear this stupid ribbon forever;
still waiting for you to come home.