I had hoped you'd see my face,
and be reminded that for me it isn't over.
I don't want to be writing this, because I'm not even certain it's how I really feel. I guess sometimes words need to be written down, just to be sure they aren't fragments of my imagination, but raw truths secluded within the walls of my mind. You were my first try, and I know you've moved on, and you're happier than you ever were with me, and I know we hurt each other in ways that can never be taken back, and I know I said I've moved on and let go, and I realise you will never even read this - yet all of this can't stop me from saying that a part of me will always want a part of you. I think that's why I self-destructed any kind of relationship other than the real deal - I refuse to have you in any other form than the highest of bonds. One held together by a keen understanding of the other, and above all, a lust for the life shared, and the life ahead. I will miss you even when you shall long since forget my face. I will miss you until the end of my days.
