So many little things stayed with me after you left. You, a single, solid man, must be missing pieces of yourself because I have them in my pockets, in my heart, on my walls. Do you not realize they are gone? Perhaps you don't know.
You showed me the lights around the windows of shops and told me what they were for, and now anytime I drive by one, your story plays out in my mind all over again, like a movie reel… I remember your words, and just being there in the car with you as you told me. I had never noticed them before.
The little fragments float around in everything that I do, landing on me at the most inopportune moments just like dust particles land, and cling to an object, sometimes undetectable until enough of them collect together and force you to clean them off. However, I can't clean these away… they're part of me now.
A scent, sensation, the ringing of that little laugh of yours--not the one you used as your 'public laugh', no… the one that nobody was supposed to know about, but it escaped in pure moments when something was truly funny to you, your organic and involuntary giggle. I like to think that I was responsible for at least a few of those.
It makes me smile to remember.
I think of things I did with you, and for you, and I kind of fantasize that you were merely afraid because it scared you that someone could be so good to you, and that you just feared falling too hard, so you left trying to save yourself, or feared that I would hurt YOU somehow, not that I never meant anything to you at all. That thought is much too painful.
Yes, at the heart of this love letter, I just want to say I don't care which is true, I will still always love you. No matter where you go, who you are with or what you're doing, you'll still be onstage in my heart. You are, after all, a star.