I had lost myself in you. The many pieces of me scattered over the battlefields of lost love, mixed in with jealously, nonsensical arguments, and other emotional debris. Every time you leave you take a piece of me, but I want you to remember me so I give willingly. Years go by but the ‘what ifs’ still haunt me. Was it her? Was it me, or was it we? In my eyes you are a creation of beauty. They say the destiny of the misunderstood is to be lonely. I commune with myself with past memories as my only company; the sensual whispers, deep kisses and your laughter especially. A strand of your hair found on a pillow is enough to invoke emotions in me that I would otherwise never know. Like a strong tide, you pull me to and fro; I struggle to swim and get back to shore, but upon my return the man I used be is no more. Inadvertently, you also left a piece of yourself with me as you walked out of the door. Goodbye kisses turn into final intimate experiences, and then again last words are spoken. I wait until you drive off to commence my long held weeping. Tears still flow even after the third day of mourning. To dull the pain, old numbers are called and familiar voices answer, but it’s not the same. I try to pull away from you, but seemingly we are conjoined; it was a revelation to me when I realized my heart was no longer mine. A collage of past loves adorn the wall of my heart like a gallery of fine art;  each one with their own unique story, narrated with powerful oratory. If you ever need me, send for me with love, addressed, in care of my heart with the postage of white doves, sealed with a kiss and scented with the perfume I most miss. 

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