I haven’t seen you since the funeral. That day we put her in the ground. I wanted to drink whiskey and chain smoke. You wanted to pray. We were never on the same page, you and I. I wanted less, you wanted more. You believed in God, I believed in science(but I wanted to believe in him for you). When I wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh. I would talk loud, and you would tell me to settle down. Maybe that’s why I was in love with you. You were my balance. The yin to my yang. Always reeling me back in when I would get too strung out on drugs; or just living. My voice of reason. That’s probably why it didn’t work out. You were my balance, and I  just wanted to be weighted down. All on one side. I wanted to crush the world with my voice. Slay the neigh-sayers with my ideas. You just wanted me to be there, and I was distant. Both emotionally and physically. After a while I couldn’t even look or speak to you. It was too much. So that day we said goodbye to her, I said goodbye to us. As we hugged and wiped the tears from each others eyes, I vowed to let you go. I wanted you to find someone better, better than me.