Froth on the Daydream

Reblog again. For ever.

I am deathly afraid of almosts. Of coming so very close to where I want to be in life that I can almost taste it, almost touch it, then falling just a little short.

I loved a man who had opened up a world to me but hadn’t loved me enough to stay in it.

You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming.

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.