I never knew that it was possible for tombstones and flowers to co-exist until the day you stopped loving me. Because when I realized that you weren’t coming back, I planted a tombstone in my heart, where you used to be, and wrapped flowers all around it, hoping to keep you alive within me.
When I allowed you to build a home in my heart, I never knew that it was possible for you to move away. I guess forever was just a doormat that you wiped your dirty feet on.
I use to think that your large hands were the perfect metaphor for security whenever our fingers intertwined. I should have known that my tiny hands would eventually slip out of it.
I used to believe that opposites attracted. Now it just sounds stupid and I never should have believed it. This heart won’t heal, because the polarity of these broken pieces won’t stick, no matter how hard I try.
A lot of people have asked me why I still hold onto this pain. I shrug my shoulders as they school me on the art of letting go. They forget that art is subjective. So maybe, I romanticize this heartache, because you’re the only source of pain that makes me feel alive and loved.
But it’s not like I never tried. I did. Tell me, how do I let you go without forgetting you?
You were a large part of my life. You watched me grow into the person that I am today. As much as I want to let you go, I want to remember you, too.
Forgive me for I refuse to forget you.