More than airing dirty laundry, I want to forgive and shake hands and walk away safely, though not so far as to forget.
More than that, I want to remember everything.
More than that, I want to be friends. I want to talk to each other, refer to each other.
More than catching my breath, I want to go through the motions, I want to feel sick and sad and then ultimately better.
More than that, I want to recognise what happened here.
More than that, I want to appreciate it.
More than that, I want to remember it as if it’s still a part of my life, not a distant, unapproachable ghost.
More than being friends, I want to acknowledge each other as a special part of both of our lives. As a chapter. As a ‘one’.
More than not wanting to lose all faith in all of that, I want you to be with me on this, just this one thing, this one last thing.
More than that, I urge you to react appropriately to the fact that I was always there fully, and would always have been.
Please, please, humour me.