Eventually I’ll stop writing about you and it’ll be bittersweet. Not because I’m not in love with you, but because I’ll just love you.

I don’t need karma. I don’t need revenge. I know when you’re forty you’ll wish you had. I’ll linger in the night and my touch will be too far from you. But I figure what’s sad isn’t that I’ll have moved on, it’s that I might be dead and you’ll never know if you even had a chance.

I don’t know where I am or where I’m going, but I just want to be right here.

When the sun meets the sky and you finally find what it is you’re looking for, I’ll no longer be here.We’ll both be dead and that voice you hear inside your head, I hope it’s dead too. I hope you’ll be at peace and all those words I said meant something.

I loved you before all of this. When there was nothing. When there was only a single atom in the night sky.

You don’t get over it. You move past it. You move through it. You lose yourself to find it, and when found, it’s yours and no longer theirs.

And in the end, I said you would love me. We’re in the end and there’s only one of us here.

I believe we were right for each other, but not in that moment, which perhaps hindered any possibility of a future.