On our first date she told me about every bad quality she had, as if somehow that would scare me away before anything could even begin. But in reality all it did was make me want to see her again. A heart like hers understand a heart like mine.
On our second date she took me to ikea. It was a last second decision that quickly turned into the best date of my life. By the time it was over we had our entire life planned out. It was like she saw a future in me that no one had before.
Her laugh is exactly like mine. I’ve always hated my laugh, it was too loud, too obnoxious. But sitting next to her in that theatre both of us laughing in a way that drowned out everyone else’s and that was it. I wanted to keep her.
She’s the first person to ever write poetry about me. Something I’ve always craved but never received. I still cry over every word.
This girl believed in me more than anyone ever had. She grasped my hands and made me chase the life long dream I never thought I was good enough for.
The first time she met my mother she shocked her by saying she was going to bring me dinner while I was at work. I don’t think my mom had ever seen someone try to take care of me.
And she did try. Truly she tried her hardest for me. Tried to be good. Tried to be okay. Tried to be in a relationship. Tried to love me.
She was my first ever New Years kiss. We were both shitfaced drunk, I had a bruised butt from trying and failing to kartwheel a hour before. But in that moment everything was perfect. Her and I were a force to be reckoned with and damn anyone who tried to break us.
We had lived very similar lives. Ones full of heartbreak and trauma. Boys used us as objects to keep them busy. We were a punching bag, a bed warmer, a mistake. Neither of us could have told you what truly being happy looked like. Because of this she always got me. And got what had happened. Never did I have to justify anything to her.
The last night we spent together was the best one. Never had I ever felt as beautiful as I did when she looked at me. She was good for me. And like all good things, they never last.
She never wanted to hurt me.
Even though I’ve forgiven her, she still hasn’t forgiven herself.
Being friends with an ex is an unusual experience. But she still treats me as if nothings really changed. But it has. Things are so different now.
To this day the colour yellow still reminds her of me. She tells me about her day sometimes and yellow somehow gets mentioned and she never fails to tell me, “So then I started thinking of you.”
If this poem wasnt enough proof. I still care for her. And I can pretend that’s good enough.
15 reasons why you should love my ex girlfriend// 4am
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