For the one who left

I've finally let you know where I live. Maybe you'll even find this, but I couldn't tell you outright.

I never finished any of the gifts I started making you. Maybe that should have indicated something. Cassette half-recorded, card never delivered, others never started. I wanted to run up to you one day with a small beautiful package in my open hands, and say, "This is what I've made for you." And it never happened.

All that mattered was that you were warm while you slept. That you wouldnt want anything; you would have it. That I never saw you sad. That you only did what you wanted to do. After a while, you didn't want to be with me.

The last time I saw you, you kissed me goodbye, friendly on the neck, and I closed my eyes almost fell over, drunk on your touch like when we first met and I brought you a different kind of chocolate every time we saw each other. I hate that you can still do this to me; it's good someone still can. No matter how much we might have wanted it, and how much we still care for each other, it wouldn't be, and we finally understood. I hope you find someone who can bring you happiness one day, and I don't think it hurts anymore that it couldn't be me. I finally got to say goodbye to you that last night. For right now, I can only leave you to your life; I'm still trying to figure out mine alone. I will always let you know how to find me, and you will never need to give notice. You know what what I'll never say will always be true.

I hope you're warm. I wish I could sing you to sleep.Goodnight, gorgeous.