I ripped apart a letter I saved and left your words in a city three hours away. But it’s unfortunate how distance can’t change history. Every memory can’t be erased. Most days I’ll still feel the chill of your lingering ghost whether 50, 500, or 5,000 miles far.
I try to bury it away in the dark of my mind but the light in my heart always brings my shadows home. I’m always forced to feel even if it’s a little, when I don’t want to feel you at all. Any ounce of goodness I remember keeps you a little too close. It’s uncomfortable forgetting you. But remembering brings me no comfort at all either. I must admit this is a loss I have never been prepared to feel, and the truth is no learned lesson could ever make it feel like it had to happen. I could have learned those lessons with someone else. It didn’t have to be you. It didn’t. The only person who has ever touched my soul this gently, and gave me such an unordinary feeling. Why did it have to be you?
I threw away the past, the words, and deleted your messages but I can still recite it all like my own poetry. Now, all you are to me is poetry. My words, reminding me that you will never read this or think of me. But miles and miles away something will still call my attention to you. You’ll send chills through my spine without knowing. I’ll remember the words I tried to leave behind. I’ll scroll through my soul and think about how time flies. And every time I’ll whisper goodbye. Choosing to let you go again and again and again.
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