I find solace in your tracks,
The way your free spirited hair found it’s way to hug my fingertips
The way your soft untouched lips caressed mine with subtle ambition.
I remember the day we met so clearly,
it was a cold February 11th evening,
I had just gotten done with my report when I saw you.
I had never been one to talk to girls, but
I was feeling confident.
I said hi and your ocean-hue eyes drowned me.
We talked for hours next to the lilacs by the window in the library.
I often times find myself reading your old letters to me, asking myself “why did you see what you had.”
Why didn’t I this, why didn’t I that, it seems every memory of you is clouded with regret of my own actions.
But that’s all you are anymore, is a collection of memories.
Pain demands to be felt, it takes no mercy on the wounded, whether the lacerations be on your skin or your heart, figurative, literally tearing you apart.
It reminds you day and night of what could be, rereading your chapter looking for a loophole or an answer, instead of moving onto the next.
I can still remember the phone ringing at 2:15pm that Sunday afternoon.
We had been in a big argument, and you wouldn’t call me back.
But then you did.. So I thought.
I answered swiftly to find a familiar voice, but not yours.
"Hello, ma’am," I greeted your mothers voice.
She was horrified, and broke the news,
And to this day, i visit you every year on February 11th, and bring you lilacs.
they always were your favorite.
I’m sorry I didn’t give ever undying second to you, because that’s what you deserved.
But it’s too late now.
I never got to apologize.
I never even got to say goodbye.
I just hope you’re happier in your new home now.
You’ve probably forgotten me, but i haven’t forgotten you.