finite

That’s it, you’re gone.

Sometimes when I’m real tired I think of you
and I remember how you made it hard to breathe
but now it’s harder than ever and it’s no longer exciting, it’s miserable.

Sometimes I’m too tired and I think of calling you
but I honestly don’t think you’d pick up.
I don’t know what to think anymore.

I started to write because I was in love.
So in love that every dark corner of myself
had been filled with your
magic, your stillness, you.
An undeniable warmth of eternal beauty.
I’m sorry for calling you beautiful, 
I know you’re so much more.
But I swear to God that if the sun came down and saw you,
it would want to shine every day
and stay around this part of the globe
for the entire year.
Just like I drove around your house 
every day to make sure everything 
looked fine because I wanted to feel 
like I could take care of you somehow.

Truth be told, you don’t need me. 
You don’t need anyone, you’re already filled
up to your throat with fans and people that
adore you and would practically do
anything if you asked.

I probably don’t need you either, but some days I feel like I do.

There’s people lined up for you down 
every single corner and sometimes
your name bounces off between walls
of conversation and I feel like they’re 
closing up on me and I will soon be crushed
by the idea of you.
By the idea that you no longer find me
interesting
or worthy of your time.
You no longer find me.
Just like I no longer find you.
I no longer think of things as infinite, because this light that made me want to be a better person for you seems to be coming to an end.

And with this finiteness of the universe,

everything that once was
no longer is
and will probably never be. 
Even though I hope it will.

I don’t know where I’m going now,

but I know I have to go.

It feels stupid to sign this as I know nothing but this
because right now I feel like i know nothing at all.

so to sign it accordingly,

This is a mess of a letter, but a letter nonetheless, I’m naming it “That’s it, you’re gone.”

To C with what seems like finite love,
from I Know Nothing At All.