Missing Pieces

Forgetting you is a funny kind of thing.

I think, it is because I don't know how.

I am a loaded rifle: locked and ready.  I am still waiting for the right moment to shoot.

I am the heart of a lightbulb symphony, full of endless potential.
I am still searching for some kind of electricity
Waiting still for some connection.

But you, you are missed chances, you are unwrapped presents
You are empty voicemails, you are unanswered calls
You are untold secrets, you are all my missing pieces
You are secondhand smoke: I know you will never be good for me, but I can't help but breathe you in.

Because you are first date flowers
You are Christmas miracles
You are holding hands in the ice rink
I have never wanted to let you go!

And I find it harder to do so each day
Because you smell like hot chocolate
You sound like my favorite rock band
You look like promise
And you feel like home.

You feel like home.

Kyle, my heart is heavy with your promises.
My mind is heavy with your words, I cannot forget them, I promise, I have been trying.

But my composure is running thin.
My lightbulb symphony always seems so ready to leave me.
My eyes are tired of looking at the bright side.
My lungs are dying from their secondhand smoke addiction.
Please show me how to stop this!

Forgiving you is easy.  I do it all the time.
It's the forgetting, that I find hard.