Rose Goodman

We chase each other around the city, learning about each other and laughing, your hands on my thigh and my fingers in your hair, and we stand on the platform at Islington and you pull me into you, and the entire world goes silent.

I am still here, waiting on you.

And it needs to stop.

Almost, almost but not quite or not yet, or maybe someday in the future, or maybe not at all.

Stay single until it feels easy, simple, like breathing.

We all need to be kinder to ourselves and know that the only validation that holds any real substance is the validation we give to ourselves.

I deserve to feel special.

Even now, when my mind wanders, it ends up back on that night of our first date. If I allow myself, I think of the way you looked at me when your eyes first fixed on my face, almost as if you couldn’t quite believe I was real, and it made me feel alive.