When I Think of You...

When I think of you, I think about rainy days and Sunday afternoons spent buried in books and thick mugs of rich hot chocolate;

Of days spent getting lost in thoughts and worlds of dragons and castles painted in colour from black and white.

I think of road trips and lakes and walks by the beach and in the park with hands swinging front and back.

I think of days spent under the sun, happy and young, with never-ending hopes and dreams and ambitions;

And good memories I’ve made so far—all tucked away in a box inside my mind.

I think of summer days and sitting by the shore and the sand in my skin and every second spent holding my breath underwater and the calm of it all against the noises of everything that’s been going on.

When I think of you, the colour yellow comes to mind and all that it symbolizes—of resilience and new beginnings and courage and dandelions and daffodils in clear glass vases.

I think of you during long sleepless nights and when the morning sun hits my restless eyes.

When I think of you, I think of writing a hundred different poems about love and loss and adventure and the quiet nights spent missing you.

I think of the late-night drives in the fast lane with the music so loud but it’s never loud enough to drown out the thoughts of you.

I think of the moments that felt like I was stuck in a bad dream and unfortunate events that kept coming in each of my life’s chapter.

I faced them all with my body looking so fragile, but it has survived so many natural disasters.

And though sad, I am glad, so glad that all these times have made me stronger and all conspired to bring the person that I am now to you.

I think of sunsets and the stars that follow and the deafening silence of some evenings and the magic of another day to start anew.

I think of the moments in life that I can never undo and the times that my heart was broken in two.

I think of the days spent in a pit of anxiety and a stiff body and then feeling a sense of dread. I think of all the moments in life where words have failed but silence, the awkward and sometimes deafening silence, have given me comfort and solace.

I think of the train rides on busy work weeks with all these strangers passing by that I’ll never see again as they go about their life and their day.

I think about how people always tend to leave, but I’m sort of hoping you would stay.

I think about how home is not made of bricks but with bones and blood and skin and a soul.

When I think of you, I think of all the feelings I get when I’m with you that I don’t feel for anybody else.

I think about summer and spring and winter and fall—a full year spent waiting for you.

When I think of you, I think of not ever letting go.