The slightest change made all the difference.

After you left, suddenly I could
look at the alphabet, and 26 letters
would form into a thousand different
memories, song lyrics became
varying explanations you would never give me,
and you were the scent I woke up to in the morning,
regardless of the fact that
I haven't been close enough
to actually smell you in weeks.
Your entire essence is still encoded within me,
like the most complex sequence the
human mind can dream up,
I have you memorized.
From the scars on your knuckles,
to the marks on your bedroom wall that put them there.
The way the corners of your mouth twitched
whenever you were thinking,
to the small shudder you gave whenever
I ran my hands through your hair,
or the little rasp in your voice when
you needed sleep, but just couldn't get it.
I am not ashamed to say I have
committed it all to memory,
right down to the outward jut
of your otherwise perfect front-teeth,
and the way your hands sometimes
felt like they were a natural born part of me,
because sometimes, it doesn't matter
how it started, or why it stopped,
sometimes, what happens in-between,
just doesn't need forgetting.

The slightest change ended a legacy.