Sometimes, I google your name.

I Haven’t Lost You

When I think of you a part of me goes very quiet inside, as if in some kind of sacred remembrance, though
I know I don't feel it and you don't deserve it.
I wish it would be as easy as placing a phone call and saying "I was just wondering how you are, if you wonder about me from time to time."
I'm trying to remember what is the truth and what is the lie in my history and I can't quite
Sort it out. I've been wondering if you could help me with that.

When I think of you a part of me pauses, as if I have sprinted to the top of a mountain, though
I know I can't feel that again and you are long gone.
On really bad days, I can feel the hint of a tear forming and I quickly cut it off;
I refuse to cry for either of us or those times again.
We were so quick to move away we never gave ourselves a reasonable opportunity to love.
I know; we couldn’t then.

When I think of you a part of me slows, as if lethargy is taking me over, though
I know we are distant now and the spell has been broken.
I’m still pulled down by your abandonment, the way you stripped me of my strength.
How I’ve changed since you had any power; I’m still afraid of succumbing.
I keep thinking of you.

Quick moments, happy ones or bad ones, stolen from something else.
I keep thinking of me, and how I’ve grown and of how you would still recognize me anyway.
I’m secretly relieved you have stayed lost to me.
I don’t want your memories, mine carry me away quite adequately.
Lies are just the truth you choose to believe, and so I think that all memory is suspect.

I wonder if you wonder about me from time to time. I wonder if a part of you reacts at all.
If you do, you should know my heart hurts a little every time you cross my mind.
How I loved you in my own way.
How you loved me in yours.