The role of a former lover
—
I think perhaps,
the moment we open our hearts to another, albeit cautiously, a part of them always lives on within us. The proof is in living through some days with a memory or a thought tugging at the string that connects two disparate souls that once breathed as one; and all at once we feel the sadness and happiness and anguish they go through, and if every scar marks its place then I will never live freely without your trace. Things like that.
We litter tiny bits of our soul everywhere we go, in the hopes that should we ever forget who we are, perhaps a former lover (or friend) should be so kind as to remind us of -
what made us laugh until we cried / the lilt in our voice they fell in love with / how we tuck our hair behind our ears / the way chopsticks look awkward in our hands / the lyrics we are too ashamed to admit we know by heart / the way we fit perfectly into their arms despite being irregularly shaped / the words we said as we turned our backs on them / how much power we abused when we broke their heart / the choices we make that determine who we could be /
and above all, what makes us unconditionally and irrevocably human.
