I wanted to 
write 
in biting
verse

Asking about
your party
and my friends
in attendance

I’d make some 
metaphor about 
Independence Day 

I wanted to 
lash out 
and ask 
how the space
felt as you 
hosted. 

I’m still angry -

I’m still grateful. 

I’m not going 
to maneuver my 
schedule around 
your’s, anymore. 

And I won’t 
reach for you 
in drunken texts 
or in venomous 
poems. 

In the end 
all it is 
is missing you
and us 
and the summer 
before 

And if I can’t
let go 
I hope you can.  

I hope you find
better 

I hope it’s 
more than
fireworks.

Oh,
didn’t I tell you? 

I repel
the explosions
and the smoke 

Sometimes 
I hate them. 

The empty sky
and hidden stars 
once the show 
ends. 

But you’re 
not them 
and you’re 
no performance 

You’re sun 
in February 
and lightning 
in June. 

You are joy. 

“How was your party?”

I’ll ask, pointedly. 

“Did you see fireworks?”

And if you ask if I 
saw them, too,
I’ll nod and smile 
in the same 
restrained way
you smile at me, now. 

“Sure, I saw them,”

knowing damn well 
I didn’t even look.