With Purpose

I've spent the last few weeks attempting to do
what it is I had, according to history,
done best: forgetting.
In fact, it wasn't something
that needed much effort-
Nature won out over nurture this time.
To forget comes naturally to a mess like me.
It isn't even what I had intended;
for utter absence of that memory isn't something
I'll ever fully be able to accomplish anyway.
Rather, to separate emotion from experience-
that is my aim.
And every aim has a purpose, and mine is
both simple and solitary,
as any should be:
I just don't want to feel for you
what I felt for you then-
because it isn't acceptable any more.
This way will no doubt be better for both of us.
Above all else, my goal is to allow you happiness-
and this may be my only chance
to make that up to you.
He's waiting for you, and your heart is as well-
waiting for you to move on.
I'm also attempting to...
but I can't do it alone.
Friends? It seems absurd.
But from this point,
absurd is something I can deal with.
And something I can be happy with,
if you can be.
I'll keep my heart and eyes attuned
to you, like always
but I'll watch from the sidelines this time.
I'm pretty comfortable here anyways.