This is just one more in my many attempts to write to you. It gets harder by the weeks, the month and now, it has gone beyond a year. A year of trying. Sometimes I think you must dread hearing from me; like I left a bad taste in your mouth and all of this, all we had and all we were is something you would much rather forget. That is not something I can take away from you.
The days are the kind that seem to stretch on endlessly and in there somewhere there is all this time has slipped in between the space of you and I and filled it up making it harder to reach out and hold on.And yes I wonder why I go on trying. I wonder why I cannot learn to say goodbye, put my feelings into a box, lock it up and throw away the key. It was then that I realised this: relationships donât end. They just change. People donât just go away, they leave. And I say this not to compensate for what I have lost, rather it is so console myself of what I still have. And I have this: I have love and so much of it that sometimes it fills to the brim of wherever it is it lives, and spills like tears. That love didnât die, it never left even when you did.
I remember telling you that I did not need you to love me for me to love you. Its true. Because here I am still, all these years after, changing faces and shapes; with a tired mind and once-too-often broken heart and old and older and still, feeling. Still loving, still. Relationships donât end, they just change. Love doesnât die, it just leaves. You. Alone.
We are no longer who we were and we no longer have what we did. You extricated yourself and left it behind you. You did what you had to do and I, stayed on. Right here. In the same place, built for two, now too big for one. I am still here and I continue to love and be with the love that once belonged to you. I continue to share and laugh and curse and grieve and smile and be passionate with you. You are not here, I know that, but it ceased to matter a long time ago.
There are deeper levels of understanding and having, loving, living with. Our souls go so deep and we cannot but love on, live on and be; and at times even without ever knowing, if we must.
Today I am writing again. One more in my attempts to write to you. I am writing because I heard a conversation I was having with you inside my heart the other day and it went something like this: âremember long ago one gorgeous night, we let the stars go freeâ¦â