I still think of you.

I thought long about how to start this letter.

A "How are you?" is only rhetorical,

and an "I miss you" is no longer true.

But I do think about you still.

There’s times when you come into my mind,

and I let you stay.

It’s never too long,

but it’s enough to remind me that we were once in the world together–

in the same time and place.

And I know you’re no longer the same person I knew you to be.

Because I’m no longer the same either.

So I’ll think about how you might have changed.

If you’re still friends with Chloe (and Grace),

If you still critique your brother’s (already perfect) golf form,

If you still sacrifice your sleep for your (unreasonably early) morning runs,

And if you still sleep with that white bear I always nagged you to wash.

I saw you’re meeting someone new.

I scrolled down to the earliest picture of him in your feed, and saw it’s already been two years.

Sometimes,

only sometimes,

when I close my eyes and linger in that darkness,

I still see you crying under that flickering lamppost—

the night I walked you home for the last time.

So I was happy that in those pictures,

you were smiling.

Next to the person who knows you the best now.

And this letter isn’t to stir your heart.

Nor is it to plant a seed in your mind,

in hopes that it’ll sprout into something,

anything.

I just wanted to say that I still think of you.

I’m meeting someone new too.

She makes me smile a lot,

and I think I’m finally ready to love.

So when I still think of you,

in those thoughts,

there’s no longer any desire for you.

But if you do find your way into my mind once more,

I'll let you stay.

Because the thought of you,

and the scent you left behind—

is but a melancholy for my youth.

Something that you have been so beautifully intertwined with.