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Description
There should be no space for guilt. There is space for guilt. You know that leaving someone does not mean that you care about them no more. It does not mean you hate them. You know you still love him, in a different way, but you do. You do not want him to hurt himself, you want him to be happy…but you do not quite know how to do that.

Maybe he thinks about you, maybe he uses you as another reason for his self-loathing scheme. You get into a philosophical conversation and it feels so good to be able to talk with him again without hurting him and not letting him hurt you.

You go on with your life. You go out, you meet people…you feel free. Something in you misses the misery which he had put you in. Something in you wants to look at his pictures again and admire his beauty, and his love of bleakness. You are happy that you can feel alive once again after leaving him, but you miss certain loneliness that was felt. You miss a certain winter-feeling his relationship had given you. And you also miss his winters.

Remember the first time you touched him? You crossed arms with him. And you couldn’t look at his face…it was too hard. You were already overwhelmed by the feeling, you did not need to look out for his own expression.

Remember the first time he held your hand? You were crossing the street and, suddenly, his palm is in yours. He was cold, he was always cold. And you were always warm. You loved his cold hands as much as you loved his warm heart. You even loved his look when he looked as if you just slapped him on the face when all you did was take your hand away

You still love him like the traveling bird that keeps having flashback of its old home that it has no way back to. You love him because he was, once, your home, your key. You still love him because he is the memory.

Description
There should be no space for guilt. There is space for guilt. You know that leaving someone does not mean that you care about them no more. It does not mean you hate them. You know you still love him, in a different way, but you do. You do not want him to hurt himself, you want him to be happy…but you do not quite know how to do that.

Maybe he thinks about you, maybe he uses you as another reason for his self-loathing scheme. You get into a philosophical conversation and it feels so good to be able to talk with him again without hurting him and not letting him hurt you.

You go on with your life. You go out, you meet people…you feel free. Something in you misses the misery which he had put you in. Something in you wants to look at his pictures again and admire his beauty, and his love of bleakness. You are happy that you can feel alive once again after leaving him, but you miss certain loneliness that was felt. You miss a certain winter-feeling his relationship had given you. And you also miss his winters.

Remember the first time you touched him? You crossed arms with him. And you couldn’t look at his face…it was too hard. You were already overwhelmed by the feeling, you did not need to look out for his own expression.

Remember the first time he held your hand? You were crossing the street and, suddenly, his palm is in yours. He was cold, he was always cold. And you were always warm. You loved his cold hands as much as you loved his warm heart. You even loved his look when he looked as if you just slapped him on the face when all you did was take your hand away

You still love him like the traveling bird that keeps having flashback of its old home that it has no way back to. You love him because he was, once, your home, your key. You still love him because he is the memory.