It takes sadness to remind you of yourself. And sadness, like any other word, can be defined vaguely by all, and specifically only by you. I understand.
Sometimes you have to go. You don’t leave, but you vanish. When you go, you take me with you. When you turn invisible, I become transparent. But you had to go. I understand.
Sometimes I hear noises when it’s lonely and lazy. I fear you. I see you waiting for me, watching over me through little wormholes, faraway. It's not you. You won't do anything absurd like that. I understand.
I know I can not mount siege over your neck anymore and raid your collarbones for the polite screams and clamp my fingers on your hair. I can not. I understand.
You know it and I know it too that I don't. I am saying it all trying to make myself feel better. When I see you, the body I recognise but cannot claim my own. Some days it makes me sit and makes me sad that there is nothing I can do about it. I sit quietly, in melancholy for hours and days. I wait. And I wait. And no I don't understand.
