I’ve lost my way of finding you.
It used to be easy. You were all I knew.
Of course, that changed long ago.
Now, absence of your heart has led to absence from my mind.
The trails to those memories have become misaligned.
Occasionally, I try to wander down the old paths.
I’ll pick up pieces of you, though they become harder to unearth.
As you might have guessed, I’m not that person you loved back then.
And the growing distance allows me to be bold.
I can almost bring myself to believe that I understand you.
With fewer pieces, it’s easier to put you together.
And talk to you. And make you laugh. And comprehend.
More than anything, I always wanted that.
I have it now.
It’s a peace I’ve earned by putting in the time and letting things go.
And, yes, perhaps longevity makes me a liar, to myself more than anyone.
But, in a case like this, I don’t care.
Those disagreements. Those different life plans.
They are all part of a larger picture today.
They no longer define what we had.
At the time, you covered the window.
You eclipsed the future, took the air from the room.
I sought music to fill my lungs and give me hope.
After I’d listened long enough, I regained my voice.
I started telling new stories and leaving ours to gather dust.
Less of you is mine with every passing year.
I wonder if one day you’ll just be a photo with no history.
I’ll simply look and smile back at you.
The stories will no longer be important.
It will just be a single image, a single feeling:
We did what we could. We gave what we had.
During the time we shared, you thought I was worth it.
And I’ll always love you for that.