My Last Poem To You

How do I tell them that after all these years, you're still the only thing I could ever love more than myself.

By

Valentina Aleksandrovna
Valentina Aleksandrovna

I spoke to a friend yesterday.
She asked me almost innocently
how long it took for me to get over you.

I paused, with a shy smile playing across my cheeks
saying nothing and everything all at once,
wanting you and not wanting you all at once.

I say, ‘I never did’. 

Because don’t you see?
You are the only thing I ever knew.
You are the only thing that I ever got to have.

You were not just a smudge 
or a small ink splatter
running across my blood cells.

You were my whole immune system.
My sick days and my healthy days
My yellow days and my grey days.

You were my heart.
Not just a piece or a part.
You were the whole, red, beating, symphony.

So when my friends ask me
for advice and for an expert opinion
on being whole on my own.

How do I tell them that after all these years
you’re still the only thing I could ever love
more than myself. Thought Catalog Logo Mark