Blackbird.

                                                On the other shore...  

                                  

                                                                             ...There we are.

If I were wrong, maybe you'd forgive me. Stubborn, love, it's who we are. Would it be wrong to tell you that I miss your eyes, and your jaw, and how you held me so tightly and made me believe I was safe. Would it be wrong to tell you that I miss your shape, your smell, and this bed it too big without you? Would it be wrong to tell you that I honestly feel that I'm better off without your weight on my shoulders, without your words in my ear, without your hand in the small of my back, showing me where to go? It's why we can't speak, nothing I have to say is an answer to your question, I have nothing to say that will be true. 

So fly, blackbird, fly, and be great.

I don't want to be saving you, I don't want you to be saving me.