It’s four a.m.
This will be one year and three months since you walked out of my life. I’ve always wanted to hate you for what you did; to be angry and spend precious moments fantasizing about someone breaking your heart like you broke mine.
But I still cringe at the thought of your tears. I would still stand between you and anything that meant to hurt you. I would still steal the sun to see you smile, to hear your laugh. I lay awake at night and remember how happy you were that Easter we drove out to your parent’s. That blue little dress you had on and the way your brown hair was curled so delicately.
I still think about making love to you. In fact, I haven’t even been able to sleep with another woman. Fifteen months and I haven’t touched another woman.
We talked a while ago and you told me about your boyfriends over the past year. I smiled and did my best to keep the hurricane that was raging inside of me locked up in that little cage that I’ve built over the last year. What blows my mind is, how could you walk away from a love like this? It was us against the world and we were making it! We had this s***** little apartment and those new jobs. Remember picking out baby names?
What happened?
