Lincoln

I remember when I found out that they were making 
an Abraham Lincoln movie

with one of my favorite actors
playing one of my favorite men.

I remember when the trailer came out.
I watched it twice in a row,

and I cried both times.

Then I saw it with two people I love.

And there in the middle of the theater,
I met my hero.

It felt sweeter than I could have imagined.

He was bound to die from the first minute,
but I flinched as it approached,
grappling for some hope that things could be different.

Don't do it.
Don't kill him.

Ever since I left that theater--
weeks ago--
I have missed him.

I feel homesick for him.

It's weird.

But
how else do I make sense of my life?