This heartache looked like buckled knees
on a gravel side street;
the last look you get of the taillights
before the car turns the corner.
 
We tried.
We tried keeping this up as long as we could,
knowing full well how bloody this would be
when we had to leave.
How badly I wanted to kiss apologies off your lips
when you were stuttering a goodbye.
That summer stained the way I feel the sunlight;
every kind of warmth just feels like your arms.
I still find myself counting the collective seconds,
states, and years 
that have built walls between us.
 
This heartache wears my younger face,
but still pulls at my older heart.