If he could, I would ask him to bottle up all my memories of him and take them away from me. Because it hurts to hope, it hurts to want something you can never have.
It was, it seems, all rainbows and fairy tales from my end, and none from his. I was so far gone, that I didn’t think with my head. I didn’t think at all.
Having no stomach for food, I skip dinner and feign exhaustion. I empty my drawers and my closet, and I sort through my clothes. Refolding, rearranging, and resorting through them all. Arranging them by color and by occasion, not wanting to think of him.
I take a shower, scrub my skin raw until my skin feels tender and roses bloom on my skin. Wanting to feel something other than heartache and disappointment. Wanting to feel clean. Wanting to get rid of the pain from being
