I Hope You Remember: Poems on Loving, Longing, and Living

by Josie Balka

We hadn’t laughed enough yet for the lines to find a permanent home on our faces

That’s the thing about friendships like ours A no-pressure situation, an eternal sense of ease The definition of the difference between forced and a force

If I had met you sooner, we could’ve had more time But I am a collaborative constellation of everything I went through Because I hadn’t met you yet It is a constant tossup between wondering how I ever didn’t know you And being grateful for the time we were strangers Because it somehow molded our edges to fit perfectly together

True love is not always simple Things don’t always work the first time Second chances exist And people change their mind

You are the source of some of your favorite feelings in the people you love

The day it shifted from memories I wanted to keep to memories other people might like to see

The only thing we can do is make the things that eventually become the things we used to do Worth pointing at on the other side of the street Worth recalling and repeating And worth missing

If it weren’t for the others Would you want it? Would it matter? Is it for you or is it for them?

One of life’s most cruel and unusual punishments Is not being able to feel things the same way two times

But my God do I ever wish I could feel some things twice Like the first time I ever loved someone

There is very real grief that comes along with mourning the loss of the past Of years that have come and gone

Grief is the normal response to a major loss And what is more major to us than the only time we’ll ever get

All that comes is only because of all that was

If given the chance to sit across from the younger me

I know that she would feel safe and loved

Because it is one thing to want to be looked at And another to want to be known

I got to care enough about things to cry about them

But what if you don’t try it And you wonder until this short life Doesn’t let you wonder anymore?

The rules you’ve set for yourself are made up. By you.

And, boy, are you ever paying for the rules you’ve set for yourself. All those things you think you have to be.