I will be on your doorstep
waiting for a door that
I know won't open in a matter
of seconds, even years
you did love me
sometimes you still do
like in songs that you say
remind you of me
in poems you write in your
faded journal with initials
at the end that I don't know of

Now you've hidden goodbyes
at the tip of my tongue
and have printed white ink
"move on move on move on"
on a paper i won't ever dare to pick up

Each time I try to get you closer to me
you push me just a centimeter away
but centimeters soon turn into miles
but even miles away you're
still holding on to me
hurting me
maybe hurting yourself
by stretching your arms so far
soon your arm will numb and
let go from my delicate palm
and when you do
maybe I will be able to finally
let  
      go of you too

j.f