Fare thee well, my honey.

It was selfish, silly even, to say that all I wanted was for you to love me forever.

Like the way I love you forever. Desperate, needy, obsessive, passionate, etc. etc.

I wanted to convince myself it would be enough just to know that you'll always love me. It'd be enough to grow old without you, die without you—never kiss you again, or touch you again, or conquer my favorite parts of your body with kisses like flags that spelled out my name—VANESSA, in obnoxious, large letters—if it meant that I'd always be your One. Your soulmate.

Silly, silly girl.

That's not enough. Will never be enough, because "enough" doesn't cover this lifetime. Doesn't cover the next, or the next, or the next.

I'm a greedy little thing, and when it comes to you and me, it's all or nothing. Baby, I'd follow you into death. Would swim the lakes of Hell and bribe the angels of Heaven to see you again.

And it'd work because I'm charming and sweet, and I love you so recklessly it would scare the shit out of any sensible supernatural creature. They'd stare at me strangely, an odd look in their eyes, and exhaustively say, "You humans and your love," and then they'd just point me your way.

(As you can see, I've thought this one out.)

I could never have enough of you, baby. If I could take and take... I would. No hesitation. I'd take every part of you, ugly and beautiful. I'd keep those parts like precious trinkets in the secret breast pocket of my favorite coat, and I'd finger them pathetically when you were away and the pining was full force; unbearable.

I'd stake out the rest of my existence somewhere between your left shoulder and neck. I'd live out the rest of my mortal days in that tiny expanse of space and skin, breathing you in—all laundry and aftershave—and I'd be blissful. Content. Hell, I'd actually fucking sleep at night.

But I don't get to have you, do I?

That's the curse of having a love so true it hurts.

You'll always be my hole. The thing in my soul to remain ever-bleeding, ever-gaping. I once heard that the most talented, brilliant people have holes. They say it makes for the best science. The best art. The best music. So, I guess you'll have to be the best poetry.

I don't get a happy ending with you every night, tucked neatly in bed beside me.

Don't get you every morning, half-asleep, half-hard, hair tousled, whispering to me in that stupid sexy sleepy voice, "C'mere. Come back to bed, baby. It’s too early. Wanna cuddle you s'more."

We can't always get what we want.

I know I can't.

All my life I've been taking what I can't have, and I've been doing it stealthily and successfully. My time is up. I've taken too much, had my fill. Blah blah blah.

I probably want too much, anyway. Always something more. Always something ridiculous. I want a wild, full life—one for the books. You might've hated it, I don't know.

No, I'm lying, you would have loved it. I know you too well! Know how your eyes light up and your heart turns to flame when we talk about the things we want from life.

Hedonists, you and I.

And also civil servant workers.

Basically, just two really good people.

Two fucking awesome people.

(See what you do to me?! I always get carried away)

Anyway, I just wanted you to know I get it—why we'll never be together.

I may not like it, but I get it.

And I have to say goodbye. Put you to rest, put us to rest.

I don’t trust myself to do this eloquently. Don’t think I can possibly send us off poetically like some message in a bottle across turbulent seas, hoping to be found again. I just can’t. We’ve always been more than pretty words and poetry. More than half-hopes and wishful thinking.

So, here are lyrics from a song I find appropriate. I love you.

If I had wings like Noah's dove
I'd fly the river to the one that I love
Fare thee well, my honey fare thee well

I had a man, who was long and tall
He moved his body like a cannon ball
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

I remember one evening in the pouring rain
And in my heart there was an aching pain
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

Muddy river runs muddy and wild
You can't give a bloody for my unborn child
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

Just as sure as the birds are flying high
Life ain't worth living if you ain't with the man you love
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well