He's A Concept Now
I forgot those romantic statements I promised I wouldn't forget. How he wanted to memorize my scars, or to glue me back together. That even knowing he would get burned, he was willing to walk through the flames. That last one wasn't said, but is has been heavily implied.
I wanted to remember those sentiments as more than the butterflies they filled me with. But I couldn't. I couldn't hold onto the thoughts, and for that, I'm sorry. I held onto the feeling, though. I hope you still have it too. It's a beautiful thing, to feel so loved. To feel like perfection in someones' eyes. To be given a purpose, a smile. To find something in this world worth holding onto.
The idea will never fade, even if he leaves. He's a concept now. A need. A ray of light when the clouds get too dark to see through. The warm blanket when I'm too scared to open my eyes and face the monsters around me. The soft hand that encourages me when I decide I want to be brave.
He's my safe place when the monsters become too much. Others have been before him. But he's different. He not only protects me from the monsters outside, but the ones in my mind as well. No one has ever done that, been that, for me. No one has ever held the weight of my mind with such ease.
I can't keep him forever as a man or a love; he isn't mine now and he never could be. But I can keep him as a feeling and hope that's never taken away from me.
You feel like perfection, but I'm far too cynical to believe in such nonsense. Too tired and jaded from chasing the butterflies before you. Maybe I never realized the point wasn't to capture, but observe. A butterfly will always leave. It is in their nature. But perhaps, something is left behind. Lingering long after it's wings have moved to another air. No, I don't believe in perfection. You are temporary. This isn't ideal, but fact. I am too old to see it any other way, regardless of the length of infinities. But I am not too old to see that something is always left behind. Maybe, that itself is the perfection.