"I can still see vaguely the scrunching of the sheets we covered ourselves with. I remember the drip, the smoothness of your legs when it came across mine, even the smell of your hands on that fateful day. Who knew it was the last time I was ever going to hold you? I guess you did know. It was a farewell present. It was a send off masquerade. It was a personal tirade of my unconscious wrongdoings.
Now, I realize that the single greatest mistake that I have to live with for the rest of my life is that I could never stop caring about you nor think of you for that matter. I still see you when I close my eyes - the baby hair on your forehead and its semi-swirl of innocent follicles. But I'll try to neatly fold those memories, straighten out the scrunches of the sheets of fragmented moments and keep them away in a cabinet somewhere in the gaping hole that is my chest. I wish I could really say goodbye, although I doubt that you would even wave at me from a distance.
Say something. Anything. I will have it tattooed across my chest as a reminder. Or maybe have them inked on my wrists so I can still feel that I'm still wearing the watch you gave me. It ran out of batteries. I hope I could just replace my memories of you with a fresh pack of someone else's. But that would make me more like you. I hate it and love it at the same time."
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