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Description
Time is passing by so quickly. It’s been a long time since we have spoken. I can still hear your voice. Especially on Sundays, when the soft beams of sunset burn through my bedroom window and the entire house falls silent as if falling sleep. But tonight is different.

Tonight. It’s the anniversary of the night we first met, the first time I’d ever seen you, at least in person. I study your photo on the front page and wish I could hold your hand again.

I remember hands reaching for the same wineglass and the hushed apology that you had uttered. The first words we’d ever spoken to each other was an apology. Perhaps we knew, even then, how this would turn out. It’s funny what I can find in memories that used to be happy, now having turned into sour reminders of a past I can’t relive. You had somehow seemed apart from the glittering mass of people. I remember being in awe that you’d even speak to me, let alone ask me to dance. Then that whole tragedy turned dream afterwards.

That morning on the mountaintop, surrounded by fog and dew, I should have known that the moment I seated myself next to you, that the reckless abandon and anticipation that I feeling would consume me. How the endless possibility of it all seemed so vast and yet now I know that it wasn’t endless at all.

When you had kissed me, the scent of you overwhelmed me, the daring scent of your spiced soap. When you had looked over at me with that small, knowing smile afterwards, I should have known that I’d never get over you.

I suppose, when I met you, I did know. I knew I’d have to spend my entire life avoiding you. Somehow I knew that if I stopped even for a second I’d fall so deeply in love I’d never break free. And somehow I knew I’d end up on the other side, alone and brokenhearted. But you were too stubborn or maybe I was too eager to be persuaded. Everything about you touched me deep inside. I stopped avoiding you. And I fell, slowly and surely.

Now my heart is mangled, the wound open, having been that way for months now. I miss you more than ever. Yet I tell myself that I’m better, that I’m over you. I know that it’s a lie. Still, I say it over and over again until I can’t help but believe it. I certainly want to; to be done with this heart ache and hollowness inside my chest.

Description
Time is passing by so quickly. It’s been a long time since we have spoken. I can still hear your voice. Especially on Sundays, when the soft beams of sunset burn through my bedroom window and the entire house falls silent as if falling sleep. But tonight is different.

Tonight. It’s the anniversary of the night we first met, the first time I’d ever seen you, at least in person. I study your photo on the front page and wish I could hold your hand again.

I remember hands reaching for the same wineglass and the hushed apology that you had uttered. The first words we’d ever spoken to each other was an apology. Perhaps we knew, even then, how this would turn out. It’s funny what I can find in memories that used to be happy, now having turned into sour reminders of a past I can’t relive. You had somehow seemed apart from the glittering mass of people. I remember being in awe that you’d even speak to me, let alone ask me to dance. Then that whole tragedy turned dream afterwards.

That morning on the mountaintop, surrounded by fog and dew, I should have known that the moment I seated myself next to you, that the reckless abandon and anticipation that I feeling would consume me. How the endless possibility of it all seemed so vast and yet now I know that it wasn’t endless at all.

When you had kissed me, the scent of you overwhelmed me, the daring scent of your spiced soap. When you had looked over at me with that small, knowing smile afterwards, I should have known that I’d never get over you.

I suppose, when I met you, I did know. I knew I’d have to spend my entire life avoiding you. Somehow I knew that if I stopped even for a second I’d fall so deeply in love I’d never break free. And somehow I knew I’d end up on the other side, alone and brokenhearted. But you were too stubborn or maybe I was too eager to be persuaded. Everything about you touched me deep inside. I stopped avoiding you. And I fell, slowly and surely.

Now my heart is mangled, the wound open, having been that way for months now. I miss you more than ever. Yet I tell myself that I’m better, that I’m over you. I know that it’s a lie. Still, I say it over and over again until I can’t help but believe it. I certainly want to; to be done with this heart ache and hollowness inside my chest.