For the Last Time

How many times have I written you goodbye. How many times have I said so long, farewell, all the best, thank-you. As many as there were days that we were together I have missed you; and then some. It seems that there is more life in you, after you, than was ever going to be between us. It's a haunting of sorts, a longing like a sliver under my tongue. With every breath, with every bite it's there, just a bit of pain, a shred of sadness. No matter how great the moment, no matter how far the body comes to healing; tu existe non plus.


It is the strangest kind of loving, the loving I have done for you. So long after there was any reason to go on loving I continue to live out the memories of what it meant to be loved by you. What it meant to love. Long gone now are the smells, the looks, the tears, the memories. It is not they that call your name in the night, but resonate the din of true love. Deep within the core of me there is a truth which calls for an equal. It was truth I believed I was looking for, a different kind of truth, one that resonated unfound harmony with all that I am which I still cannot explain. And now? The truth is that despite all the could have been, or would have been, this is exactly as it should be. It is not missing you that haunts me, it is not the desire to be with you, or to have you, but the knowledge of what is, no longer. I am not that girl, you are not that man, except but in someone elses eyes. I can still hear the mercy of your love, it rings out disembodied like those stars we sought in the inky darkness. Just glimpses of light I see when I remember too look. A love, lost with no anchor, set adrift on hopes into the future.


So I suppose this is why I continue from time to time to lick the rawness and taste the sliver beneath my tongue. The realness of it, a memorial carved upon myself. To experience even just a glimpse of the pain again it to remember how it was once real. Inherent to the daringness in which we embraced each other we were cursed and rewarded. I wouldn't have it any other way. If knowledge of you creates longing, than longing is the gift I carry to know that such a love exists.