I was all snuggled up in a blanket on the coach, slowly drifting into sleep when my phone beeped. I mean, how many people would you leave your comfy bed for in the middle of the night to go bang?
I barely remember him. That is the sad trade off. IF you want the pain to dissipate over time, the healing to begin--you barter your memories. They are not as vivid, they are not as frequent. They slip away into the corners of your mind. It is a part of the death you experience.
I want to remember him of how he was. The night he called me up and told me he'd never stop fighting for me. The glass of Pinot in his hand when he looked down and said he loved me for the first time.
I am standing at a cross road. I know if I see him again--I will make new memories. But I mourn what was--back when I believed we would be together someday.
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