I wonder what I did wrong. What did I say or do to cause you to leave me for good? Was I really not enough, or was I too much?
I’m sorry for not moving on, I’m sorry for not wanting to move on. I’m sorry for sticking to the past, refusing to look forward.
I’ll never forgive myself for letting you go.
I stopped trying to remember your scent. I stopped looking for you in my little ways, my rough days, in my vulnerability, and when I look for happiness.
Just let me love you until I get really tired, until it all runs out, until all hope is gone, until all hurt is gone, until you’re finally gone.
I’m writing to tell you that I am not the enemy, and neither is he. Coming from me, that may mean nothing, but I want you to hear my side of the story.
Why are you with her? When did you guys become a thing? Did it start whilst we were together? Endless questions I could ask. Things that haunt my thoughts, but find no answer.
I never say your name out loud.
I packaged up my feelings for you in a cardboard box.
Sometimes I wonder if I was just a hindrance of what you and her could have been, a pit stop along the way, a pause in between, a coffee break before the real thing. Sometimes I wonder whether what we ever had was real for you, may it was, maybe it wasn’t.
There are still nights I go to text or call you, only to delete it or hang up, knowing you no longer care.