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CinderPuppyEyes
for you,
the one who never knew how much i loved you,
it shocks me for how much i wish for what is lost and cannot come back. it is strange how we hold onto the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures. i loved my friend. he went away from me. there's nothing more to say. the poem ends, soft as it began -- i loved my friend. but i suppose someone always has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of this story.
maybe i miss you more than i remember you. but at the same time, i will have to remember you for longer than i have ever known you, and i am unsure whether i can come to terms with that.
i may not have said i loved you then, but i almost did. i felt i should have. sometimes i wish i could write to you. a long and beautiful letter. thank you. sorry. i remember you more often than i'd like. i miss you but i cannot remember what it is that i miss. i wish i could call you now and hear your voice. i understand why you wouldn't answer.
i'm struck with the wondering thought of asking myself how many times one thing can keep breaking your heart. i suppose the answer is as long as you keep loving it. that's just the trouble with loving a wild thing: you're always left watching the door.
i don't want to be the one who mourns everything when everyone else has forgotten. it's mortifying. it's mortifying to be the one who remembers. but what is lonelier; to grieve or not love anyone enough to?
i am much too young, and maybe i've loved you too much for i cannot think of you apart from love. maybe i remember too much and maybe i hold onto it jealously and unrelentingly, but where else would i put it all down? maybe if i loved you less i would be able to talk about it more.
my grief is tremendous but my love for you is bigger. know i love you.
my darling, this is the time for you to understand that no matter the distance and no matter what happens, like the moon, in all your fractions and your phases, i love you.
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