You don't get it.
I need to make sure
it's perfectly clear
how non-insignificant he was.
I need to make it clear
because memory fades
and everything in the past
become uncertain
tangled
a hazy dream you can not recover.

I'm terrified I'll forget.

He was the person
who made me feel loved with a touch.
He could be violent if he wanted,
I knew,
but he never lifted a finger on me
never so much as raised his voice to me.

He was quick-tempered,
I knew,
but never with me.
He was a safe-place,
the silence when even the white noise
died down.

He was in love with me,
I knew,
the way I know
I'd trust him with myself completely.

He'd come undone
he would unravel for me
and I loved him all the more
for choosing to do that with me.
He hated when I cried
said he felt like he did that to me.

Oh,
I was not in love with him
but I loved him
I do love him.

It's why I let him go.
I know myself enough
to know when I become too restless
to know when I'm about to become too selfish
too hurtful.

"Oh," I said
"I left you some lipstick marks."
"Those are the least of the marks
you'll leave me with."

"Know,
that for me,
you will always be the sweetest girl there is."

Here and there

  "I know it's not much, but it's something," I mutter and turn around and leave. I'm sort of floatting, sort of thrusting around, sort of carried by the current. I have no direction, my eye is caught by reflections and little shines and shadows and everything that temporarely flutters and then dies. The world around me is hurrying around and I remain immobile, dizzy and indiferent.
  I am working for myself by myself. That's the thought I keep repeating to myself over and over. If I say enough times I will believe it. I have nothing new to say, nothing that can be called earth-shattering, so I remain silent. I let the hubbub of everyone around me make up for my lack of words, it's a pleasant distraction even if it sometimes ends up drowning me.
  The good-old dull aches are always there of course, always scraching the same old wound but I am so accustomed to them by now I don't even notice when they are around. You get used to going around with a crippled heart, a crippled mind. You get to appreciate the tears and the smiles all the more when they come. I appreciate everything that sets me on fire, the euphoria and the pain. Everything else is a past-time or a chore.
  I miss him of course and I'm thinking of someone else of course, and that goes for everyone that occupies a space in my mind of course. But there is nothing new to be said, I made choices I have not regretted but the outcome does not make me happy. I'm not sure in some situations there is an outcome that can make one happy.
  I have thought about it of course.The doubt is sometimes there. I found one person in my life that respected me and loved me. Was in love with me. Many people never even find it once and I will find it a second time? Probably not but I loved him too much to keep him just to inevitably at some point crush him.
  "You know you too can call for me in times of need, right?"
  "Yes, I do."
  "But will you?"
  Will I? Will I?
  Probably not. You know I probably won't.
  I don't like to cause problems, I don't like to disturb.
  I'll silently remain here smiling, until I'm not here anymore.