Unsent Messages

I wish you could know how you left things, it has always stayed with me. Like, you know you need to do something but have forgotten exactly what that something is. Or the song you can hum the tune to but never figure out its name. Or the room you walk into but forget why you went there in the first place. I have never stopped wondering, I have never stopped questioning. For some reason I never blame you, I keep circling back to myself. What did I do wrong? Is my love not enough? When you start questioning your own ability to love, you stop thinking you have any to give. I have spent a long time on my own, deeply alone. I want to tell you how much I miss you, not a day goes by where you don’t cross my mind. That is sad, isn’t it? Holding onto the last tiny piece of my past, an idea of what love felt like. Sometimes I feel like that’s all it will ever be for me again, an idea.
Nothing ever fits right, almost like someone else’s piece of the puzzle is made for someone else, never mine. My piece is torn, faded and never going to fit into the picture. You made me feel so alive, so whole, so loved. What can one do when those are taken away? I've had a lot of time to think, but I never seem to get past the love I had for you; no one makes sense and no one measures up. You were the one I saw myself with until my last breath. Now you see yours with another and I am left with just a shadow of what that feels like.