Tyler

Dearest light of my heart,
    Memory teased me today.
    I walked beneath the row of trees that lined the downtown street where we first met. This time, the trees were green instead of barren or robed in gold like they were that October day. I'd like to walk there with you again, should you ever come back. I think, with us, though, there is no 'coming back'. We've stopped moving forward together, if we did move forward at all. 'We are parallel lines/we're running in circles/we're never meant to cross'.
    I don't believe I'm ever going to see you again, and as soon as the thought leaves my head, I chide myself for being foolish. I should believe that we will cross paths again one day. I shouldn't doubt it. Stranger things have happened. After all, hope works that way sometimes.
      It's been eight months, and I'm losing you in pieces. Right now I can't for the life of me remember the sound of your voice. I hope this is simply because I've never been a success with voices; I will mourn forever the day I forget your eyes.
    Even so, even though you're slowly vanishing, some things remain vivid. I can still accurately recall the expression on your face whenever you looked up at me, the way you held your mouth when you spoke, the taste of your cigarettes. There are memories that will never die. They will never fade, unlike the numerous bruises your teeth left on my skin.
    The kiss you left on the back of my hand...
    The light brush of your lips on my neck... That memory came at me so strong and sudden it brought me to my knees when it battered me.
    I am infinitely torn between longing to forget and fighting with everything I am to remember.
    Oh to go back... 'You know it starts here/outside waiting in the cold/kiss me once in the now/I swear it never gets old/and I will promise you/I can make it warmer next year'. But we don't have a next year. I know this as plainly as I know I loved you completely. Every kiss was a lifetime, and every kiss brought us closer to the end of ours. Our era has drawn to a close. Our lifetime ended with the "fuck you, it is you", to use your own words so crudely.
    'Speak no feeling/no, I don't believe you/you don't care a bit/you don't care a bit'.
    And at the end of it all, I'll torture myself still, believing that if you came back - if you came back - we could pick up where we left off. Ressurect the past in hopes of building a future. I'll torture myself believing that nothing is truly finished between us. I'll fall in love with the never-ending and its promise of infinite possibilities.