Read when you are ready to let them go

And truth be told, I did not write about you so you wouldn’t go. I had leveled your pedestal so high I couldn’t break down its walls to catch you between the lines of my poem. I still lack the words to express you. I lack the courage to start our ending. Do I tell my goodbyes to the movie tickets I still have or the hoodie you gave me that one night? Do I write them down on paper or save them on the cloud? What would be an appropriate length for them be? Should they be quick and straight to the point or can I savor this last bit of metaphysical tie I still have with you? Can I be sentimental and wishful or are you still uncomfortable with emotions? I wonder sometimes how you are now. Whether you still wear skinny jeans. If the same thoughts still worry you. I wonder if you had reached a sense of rebelling for your heart’s desire yet? Would you tell me if you did or do you think I have forgotten the passion in your eyes when you talked about what you loved? I wish I could pour my heart out into a piece of paper and send it to you. I wish I had to write about loving you and not letting you go. I wish I spoke us into existence more. I wish I didn’t have to turn you into a poem. I wish I knew the correct format for you. I wish I knew how to capture your essence within the tight walls of a quatrain. I wish modern love did not suck this much. I wish you let me hug you more. I wish you love and light and joy and laughter and the last fry on the dish and the first slice of pizza. I wish you no salads because I know you despise them. I wish your basketball team always wins and your Xbox never breaks. I wish you less stress at work and more life on the weekends. But for me, I wish myself the perfect poem, the poem to let you go.