Pine (v.)

When I say I miss you,

I wish you knew what I meant.

It doesn't mean that I simply notice your absence.

It means I'm freefalling in the hole you left inside my chest.

It means that my heart is a cathedral you set ablaze.

It means I don't know what to do with the ashes.

It means I miss the person I was when I was loved by you.

Or at least, when I thought I was.

When I say I want to see you again,

I wish you knew what I meant.

I don’t want to hear, “I know.”

I want you to tell me a good time for you.

Not next week, not next month.

Tonight. Tomorrow, at the latest.

Love isn’t just something you fold up and put in your back pocket for later.

I don’t understand how you don’t understand

that the perfect time doesn’t exist.

The perfect time is whenever we’re together.

I would shake heaven and earth

just to be in front of you.

When I tell you that I cannot sleep,

I wish you knew what I meant.

It means I won't again unless it's next to you.

It means these fuzzy dreams aren't cutting it.

When the world goes dark, you're all I see.

When I tell you that I need you,

I wish you knew what I meant.

It’s not codependency.

You are oxygen to me.

Your existence is essential to mine.

I can’t remember how I lived before you.

When I tell you I can't put on that shirt,

it means I want to wear it again with you.

When I ask you how your day was,

it means I want you to say it felt incomplete.

When I tell you to look at the moon tonight,

I wish you knew what I meant.

It doesn’t mean I think it’s pretty.

It means I’m desperate to feel close to you.

It means I want to believe

that if we’re both staring at the same thing,

we’re not so far apart.

It means I want to feel like

we’re doing something together—

even when we’re not.

When I tell you that you're beautiful,

I don’t just mean the warmth of your smile

or how your eyes catch the light.

I mean the mess of you,

the scars you try to cover.

I mean even the ugly parts—

the aching, raw, broken pieces.

Because even there, your beauty lives.

When I tell you that I want you,

I don’t mean your body.

I want your heart and mind.

I want you to let me in,

all the way—without walls or masks.

To see you naked in your truth,

even the parts you think are unlovable.

Because wanting you means wanting the whole storm,

not just the calm after it.

When I say I love you,

I wish you knew what I meant.

It’s not infatuation.

It means my life is no longer my own.

It means I cannot breathe without exhaling your name.

It means I’ll never love again.

It means if I don’t have you,

I will be alone forever.