In the comfort of a railcar, with a flask in your back pocket

You probably don't remember this, since you weren't there physically anyway, but the familiarity of your presence lingered so heavily it made me sick.

It was right before you made a good decision, and I was told by a stranger to go home in the parking lot of a busy supermarket on a cold Saturday morning. "Whatever it is you're looking for, you won't find it here," and then he asked for money. So I took his advice, and I went to the home I assumed I was meant to return to, but you weren't there. It rained that day.

So here's to the elephant in the room, that lingering, well-dressed man on the opposite side of the crowded used record store - the one who understood why I was there in the first place.

And here's to the night I told you to come in, out of exhaustion, after nearly a decade; but when I stopped fighting, you lost interest.

To the one who introduced me to dreaming in the first place: cheers.

I know I told you things, I know I was honest, even when I shouldn't have been; I said you were like magic and you took that to heart. I kissed you, because I felt like kissing you, because you said my burned chocolate chip cookies were crunchier than chewing on stars, because you could dance and I couldn't; because it really didn't seem to matter.

We wore mustaches and frequented thrift stores and dressed formally for walks in the park because, together, we felt inclined to do such things.

So, to you, partner on the trolley. And you, stranger in the sea. My dear, long-lost friend and your cracked rib cage, your sidewalk chalk and poetry; to your wild romanticism, your beer-of-the-month club; to every moment with you from Sunday brunch at Tavern on the Green to 7-11 hot dogs at midnight. This one is for you.

I still wear your shirt.

I still rely on you for inspiration.

I still admire your bravery in letting go.

I was told I was headed for a tragedy, but the reference escaped me. You were the tragedy. Once more, I took something good and made it bad.

You probably won't remember this, since you aren't here physically to hear it, but knowing I'm the cause of your absence makes me sick.