Nothing, just an echo to be forgotten.

I drummed for you today.
I sang for you today.
I didn't speak for you today.

It went well. But I never missed you as much as I missed you last night. I called and tried to get you back. Now, that I have done this, you won't let me bring you back. This is the second strike, yet I am already out.
This is real, and finally I began to tear up, to feel you gone. It is good though. I understand that this is the better. I wonder if you do though, if you ever will understand how much I cared, and how much I needed you to care.
All I can think of is that you are gone, and for once, I feel a sense of what is total, of what is over. You don't understand. And they say I needed to have faith. Faith and more faith that you felt, that your words were there in the air we breathe. But I wonder if you had faith, I need somebody with that devotion, and now you are gone.
I wonder if it hurt me or you. I don't understand or feel the taste of pain. I feel numb because you didn't answer. I can only remember. In any case, you never answer. The memories, no, no. The memoirs of me and you, of you looking at me, of me thinking of you, of you being my past, my one past, those are there and they will stay to cover up my numbness.
The echo of who we could have been will always sound of my capricious speech, of your one or two liners, the echo of your touch. Somehow, so many other things were still left in that to do list, that you qualified as a 'I hope so' list, never a must. All I needed was a must, a must from you, at any time. I got the simplicity, the simplicity we always wanted, the simplicity of just letting go.

And sometimes it's hard to let you go, only echos left finally.