I often times feel silly for how my heart still tears open at your name, a sweater snagged on a piece of fence wire. I know, in that logical and unhindered place, that you were never mine, and so the dissolution of our friendship shouldn’t hurt quite this deep. But it does. am so tired of feeling abandoned by you.
All these months later, each day without contact knots around my spine, it is hard for me to stand. I wonder what would have happened if I had kept my mouth shut about my feelings, if I had stayed content only being your friend. But I think it would have ended the same way. You would be kissing some other girl. And I would be across the ocean from you, crying on my bathroom floor, the tile cold against the skin of my cheek.
I wish that you would call me, or write me, or swim the miles between us. But I am not as silly as I often feel. So I will drink another glass of wine that I do not like, and write you letters you will never read. And you will keep on forgetting me until I am nothing more than dust that fills my veins.