I know you are thinking of me. I know you wanted me. I know I wanted out and I know you wanted to be the one to say when. I know you hurt. I know it's easier not to say it, so we won't.
I know you and you know me, but I know you better. I know I'll stay in your head for awhile, and you'll try to escape it, but it will return. I know you'll say things and write things you don't mean in order to cope. You may even hate me sometimes. Do what you need to do. Only we will know the truth.
I am not hurting much at all. I was afraid, but I am doing well without you.
We had crazy times. Maybe I'll even miss the pipis! Maybe. Probably not.
We're with each other always, even though we can't be together. We'll be in each others' minds and dreams and poems, and it's safer that way. Maybe I'll see you at the red bench sometime, where we can connect without earthly traumas getting in our way. Maybe we'll get lost in the city, walking together, feeling good, drunk on rum.
I don't need to tell you any of this. You know. I know.
No he cambiado de parecer. No, no estoy mintiendo. Si, estoy siendo honesta. No, eso no me molesta. Te veo en banco rojo.
6:27 p.m. - 2012-04-26