What may happen

When you leave me I want you to take all your pretty trinkets that I'll spend too much time looking at when you're gone.  

When you leave me you must  take all the jokes and beautiful things I shared with you, so I don't poison myself with the memories of you

When you leave me throw away all the pens and pencils I own so I cannot create out of the grief of you

When you leave me, please leave me my books and studies so I can bury myself in someone else's stories and problems

When you leave me, open all the windows and turn off all the heat, as even warmth will remind me of what's missing.  

When you leave me, write sonnets and epics about the girl who drove you away, and never publish them. Let them fester in a notebook.  

When you leave me, stay gone

I want to heal
-an excerpt from letters I hope never to write