May 12, 2017


i realize now that you deleted my number long ago. i don't know why it never occurred to me until now but having the optionality of contact so available has been part of the process of never letting go. i'm going to delete it, i will, i tell myself, knowing that even if it were to disappear into the ether as it is about to, i swear it, that there will still be your instagram and your twitter feed and all the other ways of contact that exist, in the world.  maybe i should shut things down and block it off but just the thought of severage brings the echo of deep, unmitigated sobs.  the hurt is still there. the hurt is deep. the world is big but it is not so big as one in which to lose you. knowing this gives me some amount of comfort, however painful.  it is deep and it is strong and that is all that i have ever wanted but it is empty and hollow and rings when you touch it with a deep and brassy pitch.

we will all die, some day, darling isn't this a thing that you know, deep in your bones.  why are we marked out to suffer.  why.

the answer lies but in another universe. and i but wish to follow. there is no happiness in the present only deep and unreal, regret.

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