I am listening to the music I took from you. And I expected my heart to ache even a little; to not like this music because of its attachment to a time. To you.
But my heart doesn’t ache.
And I absolutely love the music.
I wrote this a year ago after ending a friendship. It made me think of you and all the things you left me. You once asked me if those things remind me of you; you hoped they did, and I did not quite answer you.
The truth is they do not.
And it’s not that they mean even less because what we had is over. Beyond their functionality towards my needs, they never meant more to begin with. I am simply not sentimental about things like that.
Thoughts of you will seep out unbidden at the most random of times but it will never be because I touch now what you touched first. The things that I let sink further than skin deep; I am sentimental about things like that.
The taste of chorizo for one will always carry with it the memory of delicious sandwiches made in strange and familiar places; and that taste alone will remind me more of you more than the jade pendant ever will.
I will burn people in my life but hardly ever the things they leave behind. Because things to me are simply things. As long as they function like they should, they are good for keeps regardless of who they came from.
They need never mean less or more, and they certainly need never make me ache at the sight of them.