Delete.

Delete

How can I leave?
When every time I open anything for months, there you will be.
Smile shining back at me.

Everyone says get rid of the photos, but I can’t.
My heart breaks with joy for the moments we shared.
I can’t.
I did take everything down around the house, deleted everything from my phone, moved our videos on YouTube to unlisted.

But, delete?
Like you never existed?
Like we never happened?
Like I never loved you?
Like I don’t love you this very moment?

Delete?

It feels like deleting a part of me, choosing to format the disk of our life together, feels, like I am draping a veil over this part of me that you exposed to the world again.

Delete, Feels like going backwards.
Delete, feels like regret before it has even occurred, and I do not regret; what we were.
Delete, feels, as evil as I presume you must be; evil, because well who could do this to someone else.
A paced erase;
Slowly,
I delete the idea, that we WERE real, that we DID love, that YOU LOVED ME!
Ever so slowly, I delete, time deletes, the details of our moments, and one day, perhaps, when time has deleted all the bad, and some of the good, perhaps then, I can delete those pictures.

Or, perhaps I will look back on them, with love.
And delete my fear, and delete my rejection, and delete my pain, that I suffer this very moment.

Delete, not today.
Delete, perhaps tomorrow.