When someone leaves they leave their traces behind.

Hair strands in your clothes

Cigarette butts that were smoked together.

Half finished ones like the conversations you could never finish

Like there was always so much to say and always very little time.

When you left

The creases on my sheets kept reminding me of you

Your hair strands with the blue hair colour on them

Weird how it still hasn't washed off?

Don't worry, I don't hold on to my feelings anymore

We can force our minds not to think about each other still

But what do you do with these traces?

Do I throw out the cigarette butts?

You never lit them off fully, there was always a spark left behind, burning slowly to the end

I never stomped them off too because maybe I wanted to keep the spark? However slow it might get

I remember the day we decided to separate

Felt like two ships sinking together and no one could save them

There was a mutual understanding that we were both drowning but no one could save another

I hear you have found someone to stomp out your cigarettes fully now

I am not jealous,

Maybe a little?

How do you find someone so perfect to replace all the gaps we left out?

Maybe it is not about finding someone perfect

Maybe it is about being so imperfect together that they are the only person who could see through you

The other day, I saw a couple hug each other

And I remembered you used to say, if you hug someone tight enough you could squeeze out the sadness from them like we squeeze out the last ounce of toothpaste using all our strength to get the last bit out?

I used to laugh it off then, but I think I get it now

When you hug someone you tell them you care, that if they die someday, you'll be sad

I will leave this letter open ended because I never want to stomp out your cigarettes.