If I really thought about it, I would miss her sliding perfectly into my arms, like a puzzle piece meant to be next to me. I would be more lonely in a queen-size bed. I’d see it was an infinite love beyond my understanding. I’d see how quickly stable loves gets taken for granted.
If I really thought about it, there’s a lot more tragedy to be uncovered in our eyes. I’d find my apathy is just a poor substitute for the pain I pretend doesn’t exist. I’d see this hidden mourning is slowly poisoning my roots.
If I really thought about it, maybe I’d find it was all my damn fault. Maybe I’d see the parts she did wrong. Perhaps I’d find it was bound to happen.
If I really thought about it, I’d see that she’s s now buried under many thoughtless layers, in a place where I can no longer reach her.