You’ve been reduced to a letter:
A half-hearted — heart-less label,
A monosyllabic form of address
Without an address
To reach you with.
You’ve been reduced to a pseudonym:
So I can avoid speaking your name,
And forget the way it rolls of my tongue.
Something silly, childish;
So I can pretend that I’m laughing at the hyperbole of it all.
It’s the biggest, deepest, saddest, craziest —
It’s the whole world,
And all the superlatives in it.)
You’ve been reduced to a whisper:
Shreds and mists of memory and meaning,
A hazy figure I can no longer put my finger on.
Because the more I loved you,
The more you couldn’t love me,
And the more it got bigger than you.
Some part of me thinks that
I stopped loving you a long time ago,
Maybe before I realised I even loved you.
No, no, wait —
I guess I still love you, somehow;
I’m just not in love with you anymore.
I just don’t need you anymore.
You’ve been reduced to a past tense:
You’re the whole world and nothing
At the exact same heartbeat;
A boy that once made me happy,
A love that once was.