The shirt no longer smells like you;
I left it crumpled on the bed.
I wanna shoot whoever did up this room
(if they’re not already dead),
Because I’m so sick of harvest gold
and crying down the telephone,
But you’re here,
and I’m there,
and it’s 67 days ‘til home.
It’s Sunday night
and you’re begging “Never again, never again,”
and all I can say is “I’m sorry.”
Te echo de menos, but you wouldn’t understand.
Just say, “I miss you, too.”
“We’re halfway through,” this email reads,
but I feel I’m wearing thin.
I’m falling asleep to songs about hips and hearts,
and dreaming of your smooth skin.
And I’m so sick of going out alone
and wasting money on my mobile phone
Because you’re here
and I’m there
and it’s 38 days ‘til home.
And it’s Sunday night
and you’re begging “Never again, never again, no,”
and all I can say is “I’m sorry.”
Te echo de menos, but you wouldn’t understand.
Just say, “I miss you, too.”
I couldn’t find my printed copy of this poem, but it was published in Confiscated, my college literary magazine, in 2007. I wrote it in fall 2006 when I spent a semester abroad in Spain, mainly in Salamanca. It was a wonderful experience, but I missed my boyfriend (now husband) a lot. I was feeling quite lonely in a hotel room in Santander (with ugly decor in harvest gold…) and started writing this about it.
It’s actually a song, as most of my poems are. I was listening to Fall Out Boy’s album From Under the Cork Tree on repeat at the time (“songs about hips and hearts”), and not only did it get me through that semester emotionally, it inspired me to start writing songs again. When I submitted this to my lit mag, even though I removed my real name, one of the other editors immediately knew it was mine and picked up the FOB reference.
Te echo de menos obviously means I miss you in Spanish. My husband does not speak any Spanish haha.
Jedi by Knight 
Omg, Mei Mei – I love this! Really, truly. It evoked memories of me when I did my “abroad” in Hawaii. I was in a beautiful location and having so much fun but a part of my soul was missing.
I didn’t have a harvest gold room – instead I lived in a house apartment where my room had an ant infestation and the house had a rat/mouse/gecko problem. It was horrible and I had signed a contract where the last paragraph said tenants were responsible for pest control (of course I hadn’t read that far). We all couldn’t afford pest control so we stuck it out amazingly.
But I remember I was fine when I was out and about and enjoying myself, but as soon as I got back to the house, I would miss my now husband (then fiance) like none other. And with the time change, I had to be sure I could talk to him at 4 or 5pm or I’d miss him that day since he’d go to bed.
Great poem and it really brought up the past!
LikeLike
Wow, what an experience. And the time difference, yes! I had a list of times I knew we could talk/chat during the week around his work/classes because I could never remember what time it was for him.
I’m so glad you could relate to the poem, though. It was a wonderful experience but I won’t pretend it was easy.
LikeLike
Yeah but funnily, now that we’re married, I only remember the experience of it all (good and bad) but never think about the time apart from him and how hard it was. That’s probably why this poem was such a reminder. Like… Of course I missed him every day, how could I forget that?? I missed him so much that sometimes I wrote letters to him at night talking about my day. He visited me for a week during his 30th birthday and I remember I sent him home with this paperclip chain where each day he could take off a paperclip and watch it get shorter and shorter to the time I came home. He loved that ☺️. Agh see I’m reminiscing again. Good poem, Kiri out.
LikeLiked by 1 person