Ten years to the day. Now I scribble on my arm. I search words that express emptiness. Apprehension. I await a trip that I don’t want to take. I want to fly further. Longer. I want to be near you. But just my heart, not my head. You leave me alone and I near tears. Sadness comes to overshadow and I hide.
I fear for me. I fear for you. Mostly we’ll be fine. Reluctantly I keep telling myself that we will love again, just not each other. So goodbye, you’ve taken plenty of my time. As sad as my heart is, it is time for it to be free. It needs to love again, but not you. No longer you. It is time for me to heal, without you. So I fly. Not to you, but I fly. Away from where I am today.
And you stay. Ten years to the day, you stay. Wait for none, cry for none, find love with another because you and I have lost our chance to love one another.
We will love again but just not each other.
