P.S. Thank you for not ghosting me.
You say you miss me. You say saudades is the presence of an absence and my absence swells and surges and seeps into every crevice. You say my absence has hollowed you and you have nothing to say and no desire to say it. You say you cannot forgive me for moving.
You say you miss me. You say my absence is why you no longer go to the bookstore to skim book covers or smile at the barista when you order a second cup of coffee. You say you need to leave the city, too. That my absence lingers on our park bench and taunts you with the smell of piss and pizza on the corner of 3rd and Market.
You say you miss me. You say want me to be happy but not like this. Not living a daydream you didn’t fathom or venturing beyond a box that fits neatly on the top shelf of your life. You say I’ve ruined us, broken our friendship. You say you need to ruin this, ruin us, to survive. You say you need me back. You say you need me gone. You hate this. You love me.
You say you miss me. You say you’d rather I not call because my voice sounds wrong on the phone, and you can’t write because letters are like folding your soul and you’re afraid I’ll read them and know you and know you and know you and when I answer it’s like looking into a mirror and it hurts too much to see yourself between the lines.
I miss you. But I understand. I love you too much to ask for more than you can give.
I’ll be here if you ever change your mind.