The Novel-less Novelist

Dear Ex-Lover:

I still remember some things. I remember the golden hair on your arms, the way you held a fork, your ineptitude with hair product, your crappy taste in music, your cocky driving, your favourite spot at the zoo, the hoodie I bought for you but always stole for myself.



I remember some things very well, but it's the things that I don't remember that matter the most.



I forget what it was like to kiss you, really kiss you.



I forget what you sound like. I can't remember your voice.



I forget how listening to our song used to make me feel, how it was to dance in your arms.



I forget why I thought you were the one;

why we'd always be together;

why I loved

so.

damned.

hard.



I'd meant to stay in love with you, together or apart. I had such good intentions. But life gets in the way. I've lived. I've lived so much without you that it takes my breath away. I kept going; life kept going. It swept me away. I've been swept away, and not by you. Not this time. Not anymore.



I'm forgetting you little by little.

It's sad in a way. Terrifying. Healing. Soothing. Empowering.

I'm saying goodbye.

I'm gone.

...

I guess you don't get to break my heart after all.

posted by Jay @ 12:24 PM