There are letters that I never gave you. There were so many words that I tried to string up and tied around my wrist, pulsing, breaking slowly, rushing rapidly, within me, that I wanted to soak in the hands that longed to touch yours.

It’s a long way down, from here. From where I stand I could see the same hazed eyes you had always carried - so toughened by your stories, so curious with circumstance. And you will never know how much you made me feel, how little heart you put but how much that littleness exponentially spread through whatever thick skin I used to have, until I crumbled and fell furiously.

And all these useless words are nothing without their central thought of you.

You tried to console me, but it is never enough. You spread yourself thinly, and it is never enough. I am dragged down with all the lives we could’ve lived, but didn’t.

So come, let me love you in whatever way you need me to.

 

Even though we could have been so much more.