letters to my ex

exile

It's been a long time and I thought that maybe it's time to address those concerns that stick in my mind. I like thinking about the fact that how rancid my words must have sounded then or how doomed we're to never be able to be there for each other to comfort ourselves out of the misery that life bequeaths at us each day. Interestingly, each Sunday I look forward more to a conversation with a stranger who shares a contractual relationship with you than with you, yourself.

Ever since I left you at the station, I've been thinking about you. Badly. I wonder if you think about me as well? I regurgitate from the thought of wearing that hoodie, what if I might break down again? I think I lost you even before I had you.
You must know that our correspondence has always been my sole way of tracking my life and holding onto it. Make notes on it. Sometimes I feel like telling you that I like you only pushed you away. And as I write this, I understand how we shouldn't have attempted to preserve this because it isn't possible to conserve without altering nature, arresting some part of interaction with time unnaturally.
It has been a while since I liked someone and developed an emotional connection so much that it brings me to my knees. Regardless each time I think about that day, I have the overbearing urge to know what it could've been.
Your lips made me realize what fire was.
Your lurking finger touches made me realize what burning desires were.
Your face made me realize what craving was and you as a whole made me realize how apart and distant we were.

And I do think about you in the middle of the day.
I think about how your face and those witty, rudimentary, and dialectical arguments used to brighten up my lonely days.
I think about you at all the waking walking hours and I wonder if you're fading like the rest of the people I've willed myself to forget about.

For if I realise that it wasn't possible in the first place, I'd not have turned into a crippling mess.
I wish to see you. I wish to see you again and again. But I know you won't text me or call. And still, all I can think of is that am I the only one replaying our memories in my head or do you do it as well? I hope I cross your mind at least once. I hope you see me again. I'll hold onto this hope until this candle burns out and the hottest flame falls asleep again.