I am from you.

I am from that warm mid-March day.

The first time I saw you;

the promise I made,

where it all began.

I am from a phone call in early October:

The first time you talked to me.

Excitement flooded my veins.

I am from all our discussions about current events,

the way we had the same views on politics.

I am from all the deep talks we had about life.

I am from all we had in common.

I am from your small hands that made me melt each time ours touched,

your chestnut eyes that pierce my soul when we make eye contact,

and your smooth brown hair that falls just above your ears,

I am from the dent in your chest to the left of your heart,

another unique quality that made me love you more.

I am from the chills I get down my spine when you say my name,

the butterflies that flutter in my stomach when I see your familiar face.

Or the way my face lights up and my brown eyes widen when someone mentions your name.

I am from the way you looked at me,

girls pray every man could look at them the way you always looked at me.

I am from your soft voice that spoke beautiful words to me.

I am from your deep voice that spoke harsh words we both wish you could take back.

I am from all the times I pissed you off,

but never pushing you away.

I am from the way you never think before you act.

 Or speak.

This can be positive,

or negative.

I am from all the drunken phone calls from you,

your sober mind and intoxicated mind were two totally different people.

I am from wishing you’d admit the truth.

And tell me what you want from me.

Don’t you know I’d walk across the sea?

Just to be with you?

Just to see it through?

But now you’ve flown away.

Far far away.

I am from remembering our goodbye,

replaying it over and over every day.

The last time sparks flew,

the last time I’ll ever feel alive.

I hope you come back one day,

And wish you had stayed.

The girl your mom thinks is the bride to be still doesn’t know about you and me.

I am from missing you more and more each day that you are away.

I hope you know I am proud of you.

I am from lined paper, black ink, and trilogies of you and me.

I am from infinite conversations,

staying up past twilight.

I am from a dark sky full of stars,

I am from a beautiful full moon.

I am from hoping you remember me,

Please.

Don’t .

Forget.

Me.

I’ll write you letters,

don’t worry,

But please hurry and fly home,

Back to me.

Because

I am from you.

And now you left for the red white and blue.