Former lover,
Indulge me this anguished plea,
prefaced by this confession:
You are the first and final piece of my soul.
My lungs inhale air and exhale a prayer;
A request to the divine forces that you remain whole,
That no shred of your perfect self is stripped away,
That the only thing that changes is how you perceive me.
That whatever trespass or gaff on my part is ripped from memory
That you hold even half of the opinion I hold of you.
Before you carry out that box
Of personal effects,
Of joyous memories,
Of melancholy epiphanies,
Of sensuous encounters,
Of laughs,
Of tears,
And all the material and otherwise classified fragments of this broken romance,
Realize that I am a man in love with you,
A creature on the brink of the chaotic crumble of his being,
As the pillars of love gone would destroy the Parthenon.

Former lover,
Before your foot steps have finished echoing against my walls,
Please heed the request of an explanation.
Please grace this dead love with the dignity of reason,
As opposed to leaving it in a cloud of an enigma,
Abandoned like a fish on a dock, left to slowly suffocate.
Abide this request as you would a dying man,
As you are doing little more than killing me.

Former lover,
Letting you go will be like releasing a tightened vice,
As my love for you is as a part of my being as my heart.
Saying our last goodbyes,
Sharing that final kiss that did little more than indulge me
In wistful fantasies of an inevitable reunion,
Consummated with regret, love, and reconciled with intimacy.
Your goodbye left strings,
Like a strand of saliva still connecting our lips even as you parted them.

Former lover,
You left the door open when you walked through it.
How could you be so cruel?