Three Months Still Feels Like Yesterday

It's been three months, and I still can't seem to write about anything except you.

I admire the way you let me go with such finality.

There were no late-night calls,

No encore,

No post-credit scenes.

There was no question about it,

Just scissors cutting through the invisible string that wound us together.

It was the cruelest and kindest way you could have let me go.

Yet we promised each other that we would be friends,

That we would love each other always,

That we would be there, despite it all.

But are we just lying to ourselves?

I can not do things halfway,

But sometimes I still wonder if having some of you is better than having none of you.

It's been three months and I still dream of running into you at our favorite spots in the city

And that maybe when you saw my face, you would fall in love all over again

And again

And again.

It's been three months, and I am still trying to figure out how to detangle myself from the string that connects me to your laugh

And the traces of your personality that still linger in my own

And the way my heart pounds whenever I see long blonde hair in a crowd.

It's been three months, and I'm still picking up the pieces,

Despite,

despite,

despite.