you don't say anything, but you don't have to.

Dear you,

I'm preparing a package for you, to send off to god-knows-where.

It's not going to have an address. Probably no return address, either. But it's going to be one of the most important things I've ever sent in the mail. I hope the mailman understands and knows where to drop it off.

It's going to have a brown paper wrapping, with strings tied up the best I can manage. It'll be filled with old album covers and broken CDs, with forgotten secrets and stolen hopes. It's going have a jar full of tears that I've cried over you.
There's going to be the picture I drew you for your nineteenth birthday, and the picture before that, and all the other pictures I drew for you for no other reason than to hear your appreciation.
In the bottom there might be some glitter sprinkled about, and probably a snow globe with an astronaut in it, because you always were a space cadet. There's going to be the full Bleach soundtrack, and maybe a few scraps of paper with my name written next to yours.
Let's not forget the notebooks. The pages and pages filled with writing, words that you ripped from my lungs that I wrote with the blood from my gut, that were more a part of me than anything else in the world, that you'll never understand the full weight of. And maybe you do understand the weight of some of them, because we shared a lot, but now I'm going to send them to you and I hope my package doesn't weigh too much from those words.
In the spaces between these things, there will be the truth. The honest to god truth that I think you need to hear. The fact is, you've been sad for so long that I was afraid to invalidate your feelings, but you need to know. And underneath the truth, there's going to be apologies. Apologies for every cold word, every mistrusting sentence, every jealous thought, every apathetic thing I've ever said to you. They aren't going to make up for those things, not by a long shot, but I hope it's enough.
And on top of all of it, there's going to be these letters. Every letter I've written to you, and an envelope filled with the letters and poetry to him. Maybe you'll be able to find him better than I can. It's only going to have his name on the envelope, and I hope you'll respect me enough to not peek.

But there's one thing I can't put in this package that's tearing me apart. It's a vicious animal inside of me, and I wish I could give it away to you, so you could deal with it instead of me. It's my feelings for you. I can't stop feeling them, I can't stop the anger, sadness, frustration, love, hate, jealousy, caring, I can't stop caring.

And maybe that's the point of this package, is because I can't deal with all you've left behind. I can't deal with your lingering words and your forgotten goodbye. I can't stop missing you.

And I can't stop loving you.

Sincerely with all my heart,
xx
Blue

P.S. We've never behaved well enough for our stories not to be told. I'm sorry for that, above all else.