Recovery

I'm Still Holding On To Hope That Someway We End Up Together In The End

You're going to fall in love with a girl with hair a little longer than mine, another writer-type with all sorts of ideas about things but perhaps a little less aggressive about them. You're going to kiss her in ways I taught you and you're going to figure out some new ways too and when you two have sex, she will be a little bit better at it then I ever have been.
You're going to fall in love with a girl that smells good enough you bury your face in the curve of her neck and her tummy will never growl like mine always did. She'll be deep and mysterious but she won't come with the heavy past sitting on her shoulders. She won't ever keep you awake with worry. She'll always text you back and never bite too hard and never act in a way she can't explain later. She will not cry when she gets drunk, she'll just fall asleep beside you. You'll fight with her sometimes because all couples fight but it won't be with teeth and claws that we had, it will be over before it really gets going.
You're going to love her until you're no longer really sure if what we had was all that special. You'll start badmouthing me to your friends. You'll forget about me in most moments and eventually you won't even be able to tell someone what our first date was or our first kiss or even if you fucked me the last time we spoke. I'll just be gone to you, just a memory of a memory, a girl with dark eyes, a half-capable poet, some word on your tongue you're no longer sure of but you remember that you used to know it.
I will no longer be important.