I saw a picture of you and it made me see what you’d look like when you were an old man. Your face was relaxed and you were sleepy, and I could see the man I’d imagined I’d be with. I’d feared that one of us might not make it, but I hadn’t thought we wouldn’t make it together.
All the stuff we told each other and ourselves, and after a good long love I honestly don’t know if it was as good as I remember or as bad as I thought. I look at your phone in your hand and remember how hard it was to engage you. I see the happiness you seem to have now, but you seemed happy with me too, so who knows. Often you look happy and often you look sour, and I really don’t know which one you are. Both?
I don’t miss you as much now. I don’t hate you and I don’t pine for you. I don’t think of you at all most days, and every now and then that strikes me. I wish things hadn’t been as they were. I wish we could have coffee and just let it go, because I love you and I want to know you are okay. I want to laugh now and then as we always did. I want to tease you and watch the way the corners of your eyes crinkle. I’d like to see you smile. I’d like to know what you think about and I’d like you in my life, maybe twice a year having a talk or a coffee.
It’s hard to understand that a lot of the reason that won’t happen is because of me. It’s hard to think of all the stupid ways I fucked up. It’s not really sad that I lost you as much.. it’s sadder that we lost each other completely.
I wanted to be just one more person in your life that cared about you.
I lied. It is sad.
Is there any time when this is done? It’s not often these days.. but will there ever be a time when it won’t pain a little to think of you?