I can not forget your face.
No matter what I do, no matter how much it fades,
you come back and haunt me at the most inopportune times.
No matter what I said, all that I have ever loved
is rotting under the ground while I waste away up above.
He is not you.
He never will be.
And yet there are flickers and traces of you hiding in him,
occasionally exposing themselves,
if only to torment me.
I live with a stranger.
He does not know me at all.
Because I can be strong, no one protects me.
Because I can be supple, no one thinks that they might snap me in two.
With you gone, there is no one who cares what I feel or think.
You are gone. And you alone were the one person I cared to keep.
I disagree with no one now, at least not aloud.
You were the one person who would love me
in spite of everything I am.
Or, perhaps, because of it.