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Nov 2017

Another year past, with so much more unsaid.
We both had our fatal flaws:
I was afraid to fall too fast;
Wasn't ready yet-
And you wanted to dive into the unknown
Regardless of what happened.
I was too scared,
Too scared to have something so consuming and frightening.
I remember how kissing you was the most wonderful and horrifying things I'd ever done. I remember feeling the young, frail thing in my heart being changed permanently.
And it was just too soon for that.
I'm sorry I wasn't brave.
I'm sorry I hurt you by running, by pushing you away.
I'm sorry that our anger masked different kinds of hurt. There are words I said I wish I could recall, even if they were said in jest.

It's too late now,
Too late in the truest of ways
And I wonder all the time
If those two paths would have bissected again.
It would have been alright if they hadn't. Just the fact that you were still walking yours was enough for me at the time.
But now, there's an empty walk in the woods somewhere-
A place I stand, a crossways I look down, knowing the traveller I seek will never join me.
But if only.
If only, if only.

You would have been 26 this Friday.
When did we... I... get so old?
I wonder who you would have been with four more years under your belt? I wonder, but I know that you would have been just as miraculous to me now as you were then.
I'm shouting to the void, these words, knowing your eyes will never stroke each line I've typed. Penning a letter to ash- to masses of people who will read this and pluck a fragment of my grief like a shard of glass from the sand.

Embellishments aside, flowery language discarded: Happy early birthday, my love. With all of my heart and soul, know that I loved you then, and I'll love you past each year that your body is no more.


Sarah Spang
Written by
Sarah Spang  28/F/Philadelphi, Pennsylvania
(28/F/Philadelphi, Pennsylvania)   
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