summertime sadness 

last cup noodle in my hand,  
i microwave matheson water for one,   
i’m making makeshift dinners on the floor,  
but summer’s only just begun. 

my heart, a tangled noodle, soaked in salty tears, 
you’re the flavor packet, missing from my meal. 
holding onto you on lime scooters, i had no fears. 
now without you, everything’s less real. 

i count days like noodles in a cup, 
waiting for when our stars finally realign. 
each day a bar, a prison undefined, 
i ride bryan’s scooter,  
the wind a poor substitute for your hand in mine. 

summer stretches long, the campus bare,
i wander halls and feel you everywhere.  
come back and stir the stillness with your smiles, 
these hallways are starting to look like those of skiles 

i see you in the grey of routine—i think i’m obsessed. 
in each laundry cycle, your scent tumbling in sudsy swirls. 
i miss your laughter, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest, 
as we folded the world away on a cramped dorm bed. 

but now the bars, they stretch too wide, 
dividing the stars, on each side they reside, 
missing the constant of you by my side, 
in this empty equation where i abide. 

i miss you more than words can tell, 
in every corner of this empty shell, 
your absence is a tangible thing, 
in room 315, i await my king.