My mother is standing on a ladder hanging up the Christmas lights and in that moment, I wonder how much patience you’d have for yourself if you ever found yourself tangled in them. That’s how I know. I still love you. Except that’s not what I want to believe. So instead, I tell myself that it has nothing to do with love but everything to do with my curiosity. I tell myself that you’re not the only person whos patience I want to measure over tangled Christmas lights. I almost believe it. Except that- I don’t. Because it’s Sunday night and even the bow on the Christmas wreath hanging on my front door makes me think of you. It’s red, you’re favorite color. And that’s how I know that in some strange way I will never master the act of forgetting you and who you were then. I don’t try to make myself believe otherwise because fooling myself doesn’t change the truth. I still love you. I still do.
- Christmas Lights and Red Bows / @thewordsyouneverunderstood














