The End

I'll stop writing about you when every word I've bled onto paper feels like ashes in my mouth when the ink of your memory doesn't stain every page I touch when the pages of my journal turn crisp and untouched by memories of your smile when the words that once spilled from my lips in your name find a new rhythm when the stories I tell no longer circle back to the chapters we wrote together when thoughts of you no longer claw their way out of my mind and chest when the spaces between my fingers no longer ache for the touch of your hand when my heart no longer races at the sight of your name when I can walk through our ghost towns without tracing your name on every broken wall when I can look at our old photographs without feeling shards of glass beneath my skin when the sunrise paints new colors on my horizon that don't remind me of your eyes and every song on the radio doesn't sing of our lost promises Until then, I write to remember, to forget, to breathe, to keep you alive in every letter I write and in every tear that refuses to dry, hoping one day these words will heal what they couldn't save.