I remember the day you left
in a mixture of images that are real
and others that are drawn like charcoal.
Sound is muffled, but touch is acute.
The softness of your palm as
you softened your grip.
I wanted to hold tighter
but it wouldn’t make a difference.
You had already let go.
I’m angry that you left,
and yet,
I’m relieved.
You didn’t leave me.
You left you.
The parts that were worn and dull
overtook the parts that were shining and bright.
You left the pain.
I remember the moment of knowing.
I wanted you to stay
but my reasons for needing you were less than
your need to move on.
Our time was over.
I miss you
and how your life intersected mine.
And that is the part that you understood because
you missed people too.
And so it goes.
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