I’ve moved on.
I’m afraid our story ends here, my friend.
I can’t stop picturing you with her; the way you used to kiss and how you’d hold her close to your body and inhale her scent.
You will miss me as the leaves change
and the swings rest still,
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, but I did. Layer by layer.
I will set aside 3 hours every night to disobey my brain and heart, to remember you vividly in detail. To remember all those parts of you that I once loved.
Something relatively simple happens, like finding $20, or getting the best parking spot in the lot, or a 25 cent raise, and you can’t wait to share it…but you get a lump in your throat because you just can’t anymore.
I want to cry you out. I want to get you out of my system. I want to forget about you. I want to move on from you. I want to be over you. I want to be able to feel validated without your approval.
Stage #1: I’m a boss a$$ b*tch.
I often think my ability to romanticize everything is a curse. You could break my heart into a million pieces and yet I’d still find a way to make you beautiful.