The Bracelet I Made For You

There have been twenty four piercing, full moons

I have studied through my bedroom window. 

I lay awake at night thinking of you. 

I think about what I would say to you if only I had the chance. 

I study the moon and carefully string my words together, 

like they are beads for a bracelet. 

Carefully thought out and placed. 

Now, here I am, and instead of handing you 

the bracelet I have been constructing for years, 

I freeze. 

My glistening eyes stare into the once familiar soul 

that I can't seem to recognize now.

I still have the same sheets on my bed,

 where you used to watch Miss Americana with me, 

even though you hated it. 

I still work at the job that you encouraged me to get.

I still wear my hair in a bun, half up and the rest down. 

and people still make fun of that. 

I listen to the same songs we used to sing together. 

I have the same puppy, who is now three years older. 

Three years ago I wouldn't let you touch her. 

I didn't want you to taint her spirit with your soul crushing hands. 

But I never told you that. 

The eyes I stare into now are not the same as the ones I used to love,

or even the ones I used to hate. 

They are the eyes of a stranger. 

My mind goes blank. 

The bracelet snaps in half and now everything I have ever wanted to say is gone.