Its been a month and a half since I've seen you. Almost a month since we've talked at all. Time is pulling me forward, no matter how much my apparently sadistic heart fights to stay back, to stay attached to you. (Attached to nothing).
Moving forward scares me because I feel like once I do let go of you, its gone. Forever. Any memory or any event or any thing in regards to us will vanish. I may never again see your face or feel your arms around me, hear your voice or watch that artful way you smoke a blunt. And maybe its not very much of a beautiful story, but I don't want to lose it. Not that there is much to treasure or cling to or even remember, maybe, but you were significant to me and I don't want these memories to go.
I don't want to lose the way I remember you. Even though honestly the last month of knowing you really did suck, and we didn't have much of anything good to remember. But before that. One long beautiful tragedy, maybe.
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