There are quite a lot of things you should know.
Like, I am looking at the finger you once placed a ring on, and it feels so heavy on my hand now.
You should probably also know, that I still read your horoscope every single day. You should know that I don’t even know how to forget you.
I carry you with me like a stone in my heart that makes it harder to keep beating. But my weathered heart still beats in time with a drum that hasn’t sound since you left
You should know, I could not watch as they took you away from me.
I felt the ties that bound us break under the pressure of distance, of time, of crimes against ourselves.
My very being has been aged like a fine wine.
You should know, I’ve lost my sweetness of youth, now. I’m not the apple you plucked from a more forgiving tree.
I need a gentle breeze to come rock me back to sleep. I need my heart like a stone to sink me to my bottom and keep me there until you pass. Until I can get over this needing you like I do.
You should know, I know so much more now than I ever did then.
I hear your voice rapt with indifference that stings me. Hardens me, hurts me, and leaves me a kind of cold that makes you feel as if you cannot ever be warm again.
You should know, I will be okay no matter what, because loving you has taught me a thing or two. And while I would not want to take another journey without you, my feet would carry me to a place where eventually I would heal from the loss of you.
I will drink from the autumn of our love and I will hope it is enough to sustain us.
You should know, I will always wait for you, in my way. I carry a piece of your heart in my heart- and its shards are what ache through my core.
I can’t hold it on the road when you are sitting right beside me, with your hand on my thigh- and I am drunk simply by the fact that you are near.
And I am not so old that the smell of warm summer air doesn’t lead me back to June. It was June when you fell in love with me, it was June when you laughed at me, and marveled by the way it felt to feel me at your side. I was your wildwood flower, then. God forgave me in my darkest hour for loving like a child then.
And in our curtain call on a hot august night- we lie together, not really speaking, not able to fully grasp the levity of what we could lose.
You should know it is still always only you I would choose.