Swimming Lessons: Poems. Lili Reinhart

is how I know

      I love you so much.

      Whenever I see something

      beautiful, I want you to

      see it, too.

      I seem to be your new

      favorite novel.

      One that keeps you up

      at night,

      turning my pages.

      Fingers lingering on

      me so you don’t lose

      your place.

      you’d think the

      sound of this beach

      would give me déjà vu,

      but it doesn’t.

      maybe because it’s a

      different ocean than the one

      we used to visit.

      maybe because it’s November

      and I only know the Atlantic

      in the summertime.

      I hear things a little differently

      these days.

      the waves sound more

      lonely than peaceful.

      I’d like to think that

      if you were here,

      the sun would shine

      through the fog

      brighter than

      it does now.

      I find myself missing you

      before you’re even gone,

      Knowing there exists a space

      without you next to me.

      A somewhere I never want to

      feel too comfortable in.

      My Delilah.

      I remember her on our porch,

      how she closed her eyes in the sun

      as I held her close to me.

      I can hear the wind chimes from a

      summer afternoon.

      I was always clinging to her,

      trying to savor our quiet moments.

      she knew I loved her, without ever

      learning my words

      and she loved me right back.

      3:24am

      The softness of a blink is felt in moments when tears run dry.

      July.

      I can still see the

      sparkles on the water

      and feel the sun on

      half of my face.

      Sometimes I open my

      eyes when we kiss

      to see if you’re as lost

      in me as I am in you.

      I want you

      in every shade

      that you come in.

      All the good

      and all the bad.

      The memories

      these walls keep,

      I wish they

      could speak.

      So I could relive

      you touching me.

      DRUNK

      I always want

      to make a toast

      before we clink

      our glasses.

      It’s my way

      of getting to tell you

      that I love you.

      A profession of my love

      disguised by a spirit.

      Cheers.

      You pointed out the

      Big Dipper to me

      on the balcony

      near the end of summer.

      But I’ll let myself forget

      so you can show me again.

      Just tell me more

      about the stars,

      my love.

      Allow me to lose myself

      in your constellations.

      You let me lay on your clean

      sheets and wrap myself in

      your damp duvet.

      The tumbling washing

      machine mixed with the

      sound of your video games.

      An