I am leaving my dear
  one of us has to go
    and I don't think  
      no
I know that it won't be you
  my love
    we are haunting these walls
       with the memories of a beginning
          that has long since passed
I know my angel
  that this hurts
     I know
       that this is tearing a hole in your heart
I know because my own heart
    is moth eaten and
      and if I could find a way
        to rekindle this love again
I would my sweet
   I swear it
      but the nights are too long and we're shackled
    to a love that once was
a fire that burned beyond the obvious
  the obvious
the obvious that we could never keep
      the storm from eventually blowing
over
and I know I'm rambling on my dove
but
    but I can't leave until I'm certain
           positive
that you understand I am not leaving
because  
    I don't love you anymore
   I am leaving because I believe
that if I steal your essence any longer from the world
    that you shall crumble in my hands
   and I will cease to be
so you see my dear I have to go
    because I believe that we both deserve
more

she’s the girl who will remember everything. from your birthday, to the story behind that scar on your left arm, to the number of freckles on your body.

she will love every inch of your body and your soul and even the heart you didn’t know you had.

she will take in everything you have to offer and give you back so much more. so much, that you won’t even know what to do with it.

she will open up the world for you. from books and music and film to things like culture and race and language.

she’s smarter and far more beautiful than she dares herself to show.

and you will love her.

you will love her like you’ve never loved anybody before.

she will level every winter your body has suffered with all the springs her bones have weathered.

and when you go, because you can no longer handle her, she will drown herself in alcohol and drugs and sorrow. and wonder why she wasn’t good enough.

she will refuse to be saved by any other hand because nobody can touch her quite like you.

she will **** herself with loneliness and then resurrect with her own scent.
and then she will do it again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

she will be weak and strong and bold and shy and mean and nice and everything in between.

she will grow. she will grow strong and tall.

and so will you.

and in ten years from now, when you run into her at the supermarket, she will ask about your marriage.

and while you’re there telling her about your wife, who is home with the kids, and your job, she will feel genuinely happy for you.

because she forgave you. she forgave you for walking away and she forgave herself for ever thinking she wasn’t good enough.

she will have realized by then that sometimes life will give you somebody just to watch you break when it takes them away from you.

and she will be okay with it.

and so will you.

but, she will walk away without telling you about her life because she doesn’t want you to hear it in her voice that she still remembers your birthday, and that birthmark on your right shoulder.

and that ten years ago, she had hoped you would run into somebody else and told them all about her being at home with the kids.