We only stay in love with someone as long as we stay the person who loved them.
Regardless of our tendency to bottle up, heartbreak sucks for us, too.
It’s remembering how you felt in a moment, vividly. The same shivers on your skin, ripple through your veins, smile forming inadvertently. It’s reliving it but this time from the outside.
You two had plans to go to this place one day, someday, but someday isn’t a thing you can do anymore. We got lazy investing in “somedays.”
That moment when you had your first kiss is now a memory, that moment when you last saw the person with whom you shared that kiss is now a memory; a moment leads to a memory.
You’ve seen the parts of my body I stare at in frustration and insecurity. You’ve touched them with grace and complimented them. You have stared in silence, marveling at my imperfect beauty.
I can handle heartbreak and tornadoes and destruction on a grand scale. What I can’t handle is being naked and uncomfortably open for strange eyes to see.
Maybe it’s wrong of me to be longing to go back to that time I was in a rickety bus with nothing but darkness outside and the sound of a song whose meaning I did not understand, when your eyes are gazing admiringly upon my face. But that song is stuck in my head, it always has been.
You know the kind of love that happens only once in a lifetime? I thought what we had was something close to that.
You love each other, yes, but it’s dying. It’s dying quietly, drowning in a festering discontent. Chipping away, moving forth; realizing your inherent desire to be alone. Your need to have nothing.