How terrible it is to love something that death can touch.
God, that was strange to see you again, introduced by a friend of a friend. I smiled and said, "Yes, I think we've met before." In that instant, it started to pour. Captured a taxi despite all the rain, we drove in silence across Pont Champlain. And all of the time you thought I was sad, I was trying to remember your name. This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin; tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in. Now you're outside me, you see all the beauty. Repent all your sin. It's nothing but time and a face that you lose. I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose. I'll write you a postcard; I'll send you the news from a house down the road, from real love. Live through this and you won't look back. There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave. You were what I wanted; I gave what I gave. I'm not sorry I met you. I'm not sorry it's over. I'm not sorry there's nothing to save.
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