And then you spoke to me.
A soft voice in the darkness.
One I'd waited for for far too long.

And I told you not to move:
Not to stop talking.
I broke the spell--our spell.
Like a balloon, so afraid for you to fly,
I held you too tight.

I didn't craddle you properly.
I didn't let you fly and return.
…I couldn't.
I knew you would leave me.
And I am sorry.

I am also sorry that you hurt me along the way.
That I let you.
I let you form static electricity around my heart again and again as you laughed.
You laughed at me, in the dark.
Inaudible were the words, but I found out later.
I found out who you were, later.

I found who I was, too.

I found out that I gave you more than you deserved.
And I hurt you far more than what was called for.
And I never let you go.
Not then.
Not now.

This time I hold the string
not to keep you with me
(You have already flown away;
You flew away without my permission.
And you flew away with it, too.)
I hold the string because that string is love.
And you were my first.
And I would never want to get rid of that part of me.
I couldn't if I tried.

So I hold the string to remember;
Because there is no sky that could contain the both of us in this lifetime.
But I can hold who I was when I was with you.
And I can hold who you have made me become.

And I can remember you.

You taught me how to properly let go.

But most importantly,
You taught me how to properly

hold on.