“When I first found out you were married, it was like the universe stood with its hairs on end. Cold—from the outside in. A year later, that vow sits between us at the dinner table, lays next to us in bed, and has taken the happy from my eyes. I think, maybe, that’s what you want: to keep her as a protective shield—to tell me you LOVE me (after eight of my longest months!) but hold her in your back pocket. As part of a world of past we could never share.
I never thought the world was black and white; I embraced color, from the gold flecks in your eyes to the dirt on the bottom of your worn soles. But, since you, those colors have turned murky. Only grey (and not the 50 shades kind, either).
I know it’s just a sheet of paper (truly) and that you haven’t been together in years but here are three things I have never told you:
1. I’m expecting us to fail. 2. I imagine a future with you. 3. I have never been so trusting—and never had less of a reason to be.
You’ve made me an oxymoron… but I think we both know I’m a fool.”
