July 3rd 25

"The most difficult aspect of moving on is accepting that the other person already did."

x

She had a smile and a laugh that CAME out sideways. She wasn't sure she was allowed to be happy. And when she would smile at me, butterflies, like spring had broken THRU a long winter storm. 

I was trying too hard to be her sun. 

God, she was the moon. 

                  Quiet.

                                                                  Distant.

                                                                                                            Far away. 

Just beautiful in a way you couldn't touch. 

And I couldn't explain it either. 

My friends all said, "She's just not your type”, “what do you see in her?” 

Well to me, she was everything. 

And for some reason, this time, I didn't care what other people thought.

It was her handsome, genuine and gentlemen-like personality that drew me right in. That was how I lost my footing.

And still - I chased her. 

She kept her heart locked up most of the time. I didn't mind though. I'd be there for her when she was ready and when she started to let me in. I would be patient. I didn't mind waiting for her. For the version of her that felt safe enough. That person I fell so deeply in love with, she'd come back to me, as long as I was patient. I would have waited forever just for her to let me hold her... without flinching, without distance, without pushing me away

again and

                            again and

                                                    again. 

We never said goodbye, or maybe she did months ago… 

LIKELY when she started being with " her . 

LIKELY when she started to have feelings for her,

more than friends.

LIKELY when she made a commitment to be her girlfriend… while i waited ...

right?

so, let me rephrase. 

I never said goodbye. 

I could never have predicted the secrets she held for me. I never said goodbye, not really anyway it just faded like fog. Like the end of a song you didn't know was ending, until it was just over. She was gone. And yet she is still here; IN every single one of my playlist, every song I can't delete, in the text messages on my phone, on the pillow of my California King bed, in the mirror when I wear that night grown she loved the most…

And I almost feel pretty again.

"Beautiful".

She'd say "you are just so fucking beautiful."

I felt that, I lived that.

Sometimes I write her name in my journal just to see how it looks next to mine. I know, pathetic. Sometimes I whisper I love you to an empty room, pretending she hears it. Sometimes late at night I envision us in my bed together.

Sometimes… most of the time, I still think about… 

HER.