Moving through the world without you
is exquisitely painful,
though perhaps not pain from losing you,
but losing who I thought you were...
It almost doesn't matter.
That man now exists in my head.
He's the one I want.
When I see you,
you remind me of him,
the man I thought you were...
So how do I let go?
You're all I have left of him.
He wouldn't have left me bleeding
on the battlefield.
But the universe will spin off its pins
if I let you go,
...and let go of the hope of him.
I must consult
Emily Dickinson.
