Your apartment had a very distinct smell that I remember almost crying over during our last day sitting around on that super shitty couch (remember how the back of the couch was broken?) and you were taking post-its off the wall and I felt like my head was blowing up like a balloon because of how hard I was keeping it all together.
Tonight, the evening is infused with a chill; Summer’s persistent, muggy heat is slowly slipping away— the thick air that enveloped us is dissipating, and the cicadas’ chatter quiets to a din.
I love the way my mind dances with thoughts of you,
imagining the curve of your lips, the slight smirk of your smile.
I’m sorry that I don’t text you nearly as much as I should. I’m sorry that I’m not as updated on your life as I used to be when we were younger and saw each other in the halls every single day.
You’ve been telling yourself for a long time “Today is the day!” only to fall into old ways before the day, or if you’re lucky, the week, is spent.
I will not always be beautiful. I will not always be picture perfect. I will not always be the girl you first fell in love with.
You gave me every little thing to hold on to, every little thing but you.
We go out on dates before we’re ready. We find rebounds. We polish our social media to make it look like we’re happier now than we ever were in our relationship. We put in all our effort to make it look like we’re over the same people we dream about every night.
For providing me with your gracious words of wisdom.
Stop keeping people at arm’s length, and forgiveness far from your heart. Stop thinking you don’t deserve to be light and happy and weightless again. Because you do, sweet thing. You do.