You are everywhere, whether I like it or not

May

I spin your class ring around my finger.

Getting you off my mind is something           I

Am having trouble with, when I see you

Every time I glance at my hands.

June

Summer walks with you,

Swing sets and flip flops and sunsets

And coconut chapstick, and I                     can’t

Imagine a more perfect moment.

July

Kaitlyn catches us kissing.

My best friend of three years

calls me a bad Mormon.

And she’s probably right.

August

“I need space,” I                                    say.

You hesitate and then kiss me.

And there is definitely                             no

space.

September

After I send the text,

I break down sobbing.

But you can’t persuade me out of

Breaking up with you,

When you’re not here.

 October

I cannot go more than a week

Without giving in and texting you.

How do you still hold such

power over me?

 November

If I thought seeing you

would ease some of the loneliness,

I was wrong.

I turn                                                   to

leave,

And you grab my arm,

Pull me back and kiss me.

And just like that,

We’re back together.

December

You keep telling me how

Mormons are a cult.

And that I’ve been brainwashed

By the people I trust most.

But I trust                                           you

too?

 January

The loose thread on my mother’s comforter

Is far more interesting than her disappointed mouth

And critical, searching eyes.

Especially after I just told her

I’m giving up on church.