(I) still feel you in all of our favorite songs,
and I (still) reread the poems we shared,
and maybe I'm just a sucker for the pain,
but I don't want this aching to go away
because this pain is better
than the alternative of forgetting our (love).

I'm still holding onto (you) with the hand
(I never) used to push you away.
This can't be the end of our story -
you (gave) me too much to say.

Until I can know what happens next,
I'll keep going through made (up)
scenarios in my head (on) if
(you) could ever love me again.

Please let this be the white space
on the last page
before the next chapter.

*-w.b.h. // second day