"Time to Move On" - Remnants of a Love Not Quite Forgotten
Letters We Never Sent [05]
I am still in love with you. I realized it today, and it felt like salt grinding into an open wound. You irritate me so much half of the time. It is easy to look past it, blink, and it's not there. Yet I catch myself looking at you. In those moments, I am transformed into the girl I was when we first began.
July. In your dad's van, music up, rain pitter pattering outside. I stared at the back of your head for hours, always wanting you to look back. I hear you laugh and am envious it isn't me. You look at me, and all you see is a ghost. A girl you maybe once loved, I wonder if it is too late for you to look a little longer? The gaze where our eyes cross and fade into soft prayers and privacy.
I hate you for it, a strange voice curdles inside me, demanding how dare you look at all if you won't gaze? You only look. How could I deny you when you are the nutrients that my soul craves? Am I yours? And what an unavailing question to wonder when I know the answer perfectly well. It seems you have replaced me in many ways, and I sit here pondering, doe-eyed, curious to know just how you are—oh dear, dear, dear me.
How long will these cherry-filled moments between us haunt me? They reappear in my mind just when I have finished convincing myself we weren't good for the other. That bloody day at your house when we made that pie together and afterward sank as far into the sheets, lost in them like tides. A sunny day at the park, dressed head to toe over the top because simply why not? I was adorned in a pink dress and you in your suit jacket, which was too big for you—drawing the trees. Kissing and splitting rocks open to discover what was inside at the beach, laughing at our absurdity.
You don't think of me. Surely. So why do I think of you? And this is how I know it is time to move on.
Lizzie
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