It’s the jacket someone lent me because you told him to.

It’s a word, and a phrase, and you remembering my middle name.

It’s a comment that you leave, three that I’ve seen.

It’s three little dots sent through the atmosphere.

It’s the nickname that I gave you, and the name that I made you.

It’s the background on my phone, and your voice’s tone.

It’s the speed of our feet and that slow song’s soft beat.

It’s a list of all the pros and cons; the cons won, but I’ve never made a list so long.

It’s a playlist and a secret, a dream I can’t let go.

It’s the dreams that never end; it’s a far away friend.

It’s irony and winter snow; watching your face glow.

It’s when you read this and you don’t tell me, at least until you let it slip.

It’s not like you don’t know, but perhaps you don’t know why.

Perhaps you wonder what about you makes me want to cry.

Maybe I should tell you that it’s nothing that you did.

Maybe I should tell you that I’m gone and that was it.

Or maybe I should tell you that I’ll never give up trying,

Until you have what I have, my reason for crying,

and my reason for smiling.