Be that as it may
I still think of you.
Where the old wounds were, new aches form. Every little thing is liable to send me down memory lane. Faultless details suddenly criminal, reminding me of the parts of me you helped to mold. I am you as much as you are me. Two ships lost at sea, never to meet again.
A cigarette in the dark with the cherry burning, nostalgia fills my head with every word we ever spoke to one another. Brightness, lightness. We were so candid. We were so cruel. I loved you for the longest time, and love you now in spite of who I convinced myself I shouldn’t love. There isn’t enough love in this world for the people we became while apart.
I never want to see you happy without me but, in dreams, visit me when you can.
Giving you the buried hatchet, sending you away with the olive branch. If turning my back on you is the only thing I can do, watch me walk away.
I still think of you, but it’s not what you think.
If it’s the best I can do, being your ghost, I might as well haunt you long past the point of closure. Avoiding the stars beneath starless skies, deflecting questions when all the answers are clear. Perfect hours before sunrise are still perfect without you even if nothing good happens after midnight.
Shallow, like the depth of our excuses. Hateful, like the last thing I said to you.
Build something, break it. Start something, quit it. Give something, take it back.
Promise you still think of me, too.