And I Love You Still

We used to be sister close, do you recall?

I was your first on the list, number one-tell-all-trusted confidant. I remember that time you called and said "I need you to listen and not say anything", to which I replied "I am listening". You had to hear yourself and have someone pay attention to you as your thoughts flooded forth, gushing with meaning, feeling, and a bit of confusion too. You were sorting, trying to figure things out. You didn't need help, you needed someone to care enough to be silent, trusting you knew your way to wherever it was you wanted to go. 

That is a good memory for me and it makes me teary to think of you... and how? dear old friend, did things change so drastically, overnight, when strangers told you that I could be the death of you, if I came near, if you let me. Now we are worlds apart.

I wonder what role loyalty plays in your decisions. How loyal you are to this life, your choices, decisions to protect yourself, at the expense of what we had, who we were, the future I thought we could share. Don't you see? I am still me: I guess I thought you were someone else. I guess I found out, that if I were dying, you wouldn't risk catching death from me. I didn't know your loyalty didn't exist, that I was replaceable, that you could move away and on so readily, so comfortably. 

I want you to know that if the roles were reversed, wild horses couldn't keep me from you: I would recruit them to race me to you. I love you still, and long for what was, knowing that impossible stands between you and me; trust shattered, broken shards between us... impassable. 

Sometimes I am mad at you, but mostly, my heart hurts with longing. I really thought we would be lifers, in the best possible way. Part of me wants to keep your memory alive, part of me wants to look away, weep, and just let you go. If I could, I would pull you close and never ever relinquish my grip... you broke away, I didn't. You are free, and I wouldn't want to keep you, not if you didn't want to stay. 

One more goodbye, without the promise of see you soon. Wishing doesn't change a thing, does it friend? Somehow we stopped speaking the same language, and couldn't understand one another: you are a foreigner to me, someone that I used to know... you didn't want me to kill you with some kind of flu, instead, you killed us, the you and me that used to be. 

My heart hurts, and I love you still