I lost track of the number of handkerchiefs I’ve lost these past two years, three months, and twenty eight days. You used to tell me I had a knack for losing the most mundane things, and I would just smile and rub my sweaty hands against my denim jeans before I hold yours just tight enough to let you know that you . . . I did not want to lose you—but still loose enough just so you could understand that I did not intend to keep you for my ‘own’—
—You were so much more than I could ever grip; you would never fit within the corners of the word ‘mine,’ and this I’d known from the very first time my troubled mind found solid ground in your fleeting smile—you were unlike any other. You were always on the run, and it did not take long for my heart to race to the pace of your footsteps. I mustered every ounce of courage in the air that I could when I told you that it didn’t matter where you went—that I would always be at the end of every road-but it’s been two years, three months, and twenty eight days since you last stopped to breathe, and you chose to lose your chance to when you chose to kiss me goodbye—
—All you wanted was to fly close to the sun to search for your light—now tell me how could I ever wish pain on someone whose aim was to save me from the burn? Tell me, which part in fulfilling in filling in my cracks when you were full of gaps instead of pieces was selfish? You were the very reason I didn’t break to the magnitude of your leaving, why my hope stays intact even after tripping on the hands of the clock that I’ve been racing to the day where you finally land—
—Darling, you have got to understand that I understood that you needed both of your hands to put yourself together; that whatever you were looking for, you couldn’t find through our walks in the park; that it never mattered how beautiful the sunset was from wherever we stood—you would still wonder what lay on its other side—the only way for you to see the bigger picture was to keep your distance—
—And I would not be the one keep you from seeing all the lines you can cross, all the points in living, all the colors my eyes do not hold. Time will come and we’ll be part of the same great story, but right now, I just can’t wait for your best ones to unfold—
—Trust that I hold nothing against you. My only wish is that you keep your feet off the ground; the universe could make you a cape out of all the handkerchiefs I lost for you to roam in around—
—And when you get tired, I hope you find rest on a cloud. But please, don’t make it rain when I whisper my ‘I love you’s’ a little too loud—I think I am allowed to miss you—
—But I will not ask you to slow down; I wouldn’t chase you then blame you for the wounds I’d have if I tripped; my feet will be right where you took off and I will try not to let the dust bite me into tears; I will love you from here with a love that makes you feel free. So fly, baby. Fly, baby—even if it means away from me.