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» not a hugger

you've never hugged me.

actually, i don't think you've ever hugged anyone:
i mean, we've been friends for five years
and i've never seen you show affection. not like that.

i know you show it.
i know you do because midnight two days
before school started you told me i was an
amazing writer and i had a way with words and
that you couldn't believe it'd been years since we talked.
and i, the one who was supposed to be good with words,
sat there and hid my face in my hands

i know you have love somewhere
because you're always first to talk to me.
and i'm sorry - i know i never talk first, i find myself a burden -
but it's the new year, and maybe it'll be easier after the break,
i'll try, for you.

i can't tell you that, and the closest i can get to a hug
is looking directly at you. but maybe the smile we can share
can convey the same?

i'd rather write you something; i'm not good at receiving
 their hugs, but i can remember. and i can't
 start a conversation with compliments but i can tell you stories

and i can hope you see it and think that sounds like us
because this thought of me is really all i can give.
take it -

i miss you, come back and watch us crumble
i miss you, come back and read my mind
i miss you, i can't bring myself to hug you but know
i miss you, and i want to

- take this poem instead, please.

( 1.22 )