I still think of you sometimes.
The way your yellow tips curl.
The way your words scream like
a caged beast, longing for freedom.

I will not lie, you were my masterpiece,
so perfectly carved, gilded in gold.
A final rebellious manifesto,
something one could fall in love with.

For the first time I felt like I was understood,
the way you held my name
like something to be treasured,
I have never known love like that.

Though you are a jealous lover,
the kind I do not know how to love anymore.
Maybe it is because I am afraid of forever,
Or maybe I am afraid to let this loneliness go.

Sometimes I still think of you,
but I can not be with you.
For if the sadness is to leave too,
what would be left?