💔

A day does not pass where I do not think of you. Our relationship grew so much toward the end of the year, and it seemed as though every day we were breaking new barriers, reaching new places of understanding with each other. On the last day, I waited under those stadium lights, under the harsh adoration of that summer night. No goodbye, no “We’ll stay in touch”, no hugs or laughter. I waited until your shadow slipped into the dark and through my hands.

A part of me was taken that night. My chest aches when I remember how you assured me that we would have a proper goodbye, you would see me, you said, “I always see you.” All of my dreams led to that moment–that wild hope of us sharing success, sharing a last glance, sharing something worthwhile.

Every poem I wrote was a confession, every song I sang a hymn of adoration–even in the last hour. And the tender moments we shared? Were they all for nothing? When you held my hand, were you somewhere else in heart? When your voice softened to sugar, was that merely a coincidence?

I am Hamlet, facing action and consequence, Prufrock, knowing too well the music from a farther room, and Gatsby, building my life upon a dead echo. I am a character type, a common downfall, a plot device. I am devastated.