“Dear You, It’s almost been 7 months since I last told you that I loved you, but it’s not been 7 months since I last felt it. I still feel it every day. I still feel you in my bones, igniting the flames I could never light on my own. You rush into my veins like oxygen and I exhale you as much times as my heart pumps out the very being of your existence inside of me. There’s only so much of you that I can take, and it’s to the extent where I forget to bring myself too. I still love you. But I hope you know that I don’t always think about you. I don’t sit around looking at our old photos or reading our old texts. I don’t always dream about us and what could have been; or count stars and pretend that’s still how much you love me. I don’t always remember you. But sometimes, I do. And when I do, man do I miss you. You found me in a maze I lost myself in, building. You lit me though I had no wick. You burnt my bridges and melted my walls. Your presence made up for the absence that was in my heart. You had meant nothing to me but one day, I woke up and suddenly a world without you felt unsafe and unbearable. And I knew then it would never end. I used to think about you all the time. Constantly debating on asking how you were or if you were happy. But why would I ask you something I already know? You were fine, I was not. The simplicity in that is more complex than words could tell. And with you gone, I stumbled back to square one. So now, I know not to ask about you anymore or write sad, sappy poems about what sucked. Instead, all I do now is miss you, and remember all things good. Sometimes it hurts and sometimes it doesn’t. Bittersweet. Still, your mark in my heart remains, the words you engraved “I hope we find each other again someday.” And every so often I think about that, and it makes me despondent. Because I wish we didn’t have to find each other later on, I wish we had never lost each other in the first place. But we did, and it sucks. Nonetheless, there you are living your life without me, and here I am trying to live mine without you. I tell myself that life goes on and time will mend the broken souls, but before I left, you had told me, “I just hope I can move on,” and I had assured you that you would. And 7 months later, I was right. There you are with someone new carrying your heart and keeping it intact, and still here I am trying to superglue the broken “I love you’s.” I convinced myself that if I had gone and you had stayed happy, that was that. And even though you did, I have not yet allowed myself to move on. Because I still love you. I don’t think I will ever not love you. And I apologize if you didn’t want to hear this: or if you did and I didn’t tell you sooner. But my love, I could never intrude or invade you of your happiness. So for now, I am sorry I have not let you go, and I’m sorry you do not know. But I will always love you as much as you don’t love me. I will no longer wait for another 7 months, for this is me, now, setting you free to let you be. Thank you for making me happy. Love, Me”
romaincrisis
dededos
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
