To the girl that comes after me, I'm sorry. I've threaded my presence in his mind, woven between the beam of my smile and the sound of my laughter.
I'm sorry for the times he'll say my name instead of yours, and for the songs he keeps skipping on that playlist. The sting on your tongue when he kisses you... that's the taste of me that he still holds on to. Forgive him for the photos he archived instead of deleted, and for the gifts in the shoe box that he swore he gave away.
I'm sorry for his mood in the middle of September, and for the walls he struggles to break down. I'm sorry for every time he says he's fine and you know he's lying. He's trying.
So please don't give up on him... Be gentle. Don't be loud. Treat him like a king and he'll love you like a queen. Give him your attention. All of it. He likes that.
Be honest with him... He's really good at seeing through *******. Kiss him in the morning like you didn't see him the night before. Pray for him. Pray with him. Hold him when he's broken, and keep that same energy when he's whole.
...and if you can, make him forget he ever loved me. Give him everything I couldn't. Do everything I wouldn't... I didn't. Show him what he was missing, then hopefully you'll forgive him for the gifts in the shoebox that he swore he gave away.
I hope you light that **** on fire. I hope the ghosts all fade away.