A letter for when you’re leaving
A letter for when you’re leaving
I can’t understand how anyone could have ever been in love several times, because being in love with you makes that thought unfathomable. I guess you did a lot of things to me; you made me be scared to a point of desperation of being touched while not leaving a mark; you convinced me that love only exists in one form and this form of love will always be damaged; you left me thinking that living a life pining for you is better than any other life I could ever live. Do you know how lovers hold on to anything? Yesterday, I dreamt that we had a daughter, you know, that’s how much you’ve damaged me, I actually missed my imaginary-mishap-daughter when I woke up, knowing that she was partly-imaginary-mishap-me and partly-imaginary-mishap-you. And I’m deadly jealous of your tattoo because it gets to stay with you through anything, because you committed to it for a lifetime while not ever being able to commit to me.
I think, at this point, you have successfully taken me apart, because I’m scared of not being with you and I’m even more scared of being with you; I’m scared of not having you touch me or smile at me or hurt me and I’m even more scared of having you touch me or smile at me or hurt me, because I know now that you are temporary, you are like the tide. People should not fall in love with the tide, because the tide only returns to once again disappear, taking everything away with it. You always tell me that you shouldn’t touch me, while I keep thinking that surely, you should touch me because the whole world lives within that touch. You once told me that I was not a misfit when I was crying, telling you that I like being choked and you kissed me and held your hand over my mouth and weirdly that made me feel cherished. The first time you gave me an orgasm, you left two minutes later to call your ex girlfriend, while I was still in your bed, looking at the trees outside of your window, it looked like they were fighting and I remember feeling this terrible numbness. You once called me a sociopath because I was in love with you, but couldn’t tell you and you also once called me beautiful and whispered into my mouth that you missed me. You once told me that my biceps are so soft that you could fall asleep just by lying on them. You once read me a story that you had written, about a frog and a pelican that found a treasure together. You also taught me that it’s true that you can’t make homes out of other people, but someone should have already told me that. You have a kind heart, but you still broke mine. You’re determinedly opinionated; yet you never seemed to be able to make up your mind about me. A couple of weeks ago you told me that you’re not able to be with anyone and I don’t really know in which way you are damaged, I just know it and you know it and I feel like I should have made you love me in a way that was everything, I feel like I should have loved away this damage, and even though you’re leaving me I’m the one scared of you always being alone, I guess that is the highest form of being selflessly shattered. I don’t know. I know your collarbones look like the wings of an airplane. I know no thought could ever be as silent and empty as the thought of you going away. I am in love with you, I know this too, and I can’t understand how anyone could have ever been in love several times or with anyone other than you, because you are the stars and the moon and all of the darkness in the sky.”
- A letter for when you’re leaving