I have a fascination with numbers
In a way that is more emotional
Than logical.
I sum up the feelings
And crunch them to numbers
So that those who fail to
May grasp what I seem to feel.

As I cross bridges
I burn them.
Don’t think of following me
To the other side
For when I choose to leave,
It’s for good.

I remember the way
We used to talk about the future,
Sitting on
Other peoples’ lawns
On cool summer evenings.
And yet you know
There will never be going back to those times
Nor chances to move forward.

Ten percent of me
Felt remorse.
And yet,
The rest of me knew
That there was no meaning to regret.
So on the same stranded place I left you,
I left half of me, too.
The half of me that loved you.


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