Dear,
Your eyes always betrayed what you were feeling, what you could not communicate. Wet when I said I might move to France.
I could be cruel.
I loved how much you loved me, but I tested you. Always needing reassurance, I pushed you too far.
Then you stopped reassuring and became punishing instead.
If only I could act from the heart, if only you could speak from it.
I’m sad now it’s finally quiet. The attachment cycle I talked too much about has stopped.
I’m sad I deleted every trace of you - every photo, every message, any mention of your name.
I’m sad because I know my brain and it forgets everything.
I won’t remember you in detail.
You will become a blur.
Your laugh will become a sound bite. Your voice, a distant hum of a funny song. It will stay on the tip of my tongue but I won’t be able to grasp it.
Your smell is already lost.
The colour of your eyes will fade, or perhaps, they’ll become more blue - but either way, they won’t be real.
I wonder if I will run into you one day. I imagine you will be with someone else, maybe you’ll be a father.
I’ll look for signs that you miss me, but I won’t find them.
I’ve lost a best friend and that makes me sad. But each day will pass and I’ll keep forgetting you.
I’ll keep busy and so will you, this will expedite the process. And at the end of our one big busy and detailed life, our memories of one another will be a hazy dream of colour. “Oh yeah I remember her. She was nice.”
And all that’s left after everything we went through is that odd dream I had. Sitting next to you in the sun, listening to music together, because I didn’t want to go home just yet.