Dear No One.

I understand that they were the love of your life.

But you don’t live that life anymore.

They were the love of the life you WERE living, not the one you are now.

Don’t be afraid to find the love of your life again…

And again.

And again.

I’m sorry for not holding you tighter when I had the chance, I honestly thought there’d never be a time when I couldn’t.

So I’m supposed to drive past the places we adored together as though they weren’t once filled love and the possibility of forever?

Very well, but I’ll hate every second.

I spoke to your mum.

I asked her why the last time was the last time.

Do you know what she said?

She said that in order to love me you had to leave me because if it were up to me I would have broken myself to fix us.

She said that the only way for me to realise that, was for you to show me only the bad and none of the good.

To sacrifice the good memories and replace them with bad ones because I was incapable of saving myself.

And in one last declaration of love, you broke my heart before I did it myself.

Merry Christmas my darling.

This year instead of wishing for you to come back I simply wished for inner peace because it would be easier to obtain.

Something that both warms me and breaks me is that no matter how long it has been, no matter how many relationships both you and I have been in.

People still think of me when you’re bought up in conversation and people still think of you when they see me.

They remember us.

They remember the love, the joy and everything in between.

They remember us.

Because the love we had. Love that is so prominent it makes you envy the people who share it. Love that makes you wonder how it came to be.

When they think of me they’ll think of you and vice versa because a love like ours leaves a mark on people.

Even after the love is gone.

Ever think about how you never know your story with someone is over?

No?

Well I do.

I’m sitting here thinking about how I haven’t seen you in a while but despite that I could see you again. I could love you again.

That maybe twenty years from now, maybe after a failed marriage or two, you and I will see each other again and still feel the sparks.

I won’t know if our story has ended unless I die without ever seeing you again.

Love, No One.

If ever I find myself in a position where I could get to love you again rest assured that I will walk past you as though you never had my heart in the first place.

Love, No One.

I didn’t want to burn our bridge, truly.

But you left me in the middle of winter without a coat and I needed something to keep me warm.

When we were in love I used to pick the petals off of daisies and give them the power to tell me if you loved me or not.

Throwing them away without a second thought.

I should’ve left them as they were because now I know how it feels.

You took me from comfort causing pain in the most subtle way, taking the beauty from my life one petal at a time and when there were no more petals to pick. You left me.

No purpose, no beauty and no way back to the person I was before.

Love, No One.

You taught me how to love.

You were the first man to see me and want everything I had to offer.

If only you had kept wanting me the way I wanted you.

The time for daydreams is over, the door to our forever has closed. I can hear you knocking on the other side but I won’t answer and you threw away your key.

Knock all you like, knock until your knuckles are bloody.

It will not open.

My mother always told me not to open the door for people you don’t know.

And you sir, are a stranger.

Loving you was never the issue.

Loving me enough to let you go was where the real problem lay and still to this day lies.

I intentionally said ‘see you around’ when we last spoke because maybe, just maybe, if I didn’t say goodbye nothing would be final.

And it couldn’t be a case of ‘if’ but when I saw you again.

But no one told me that the words you say don’t finalise your goodbye.

It’s the emotion that comes with heartbreak that are in charge of putting the nails in the coffin.

I’m scared.

Scared because I love you but when I look at you I don’t know you.

I don’t know if your favourite food is still mac and cheese or if you still stay up late watching videos online.

I don’t know if you still drive that old car your parents gave you or if someone running their fingers through your hair still puts you to sleep.

I don’t know and I’m scared that because I don’t know, I may not have the right to love you anymore.

I found closure in the way you treated her, in the way you smiled at her and in the way you loved her.

I found closure in the words you didn’t say and the apologies that were left unsaid.

I found closure in the way you broke me without remorse.

You left me no choice but to find closure at your expense. I will not accept blame for the way I healed when you won’t accept that you’re the reason I was hurt in the first place.

I always thought that if I’d I just kept loving you, I’d never have to get to the part where I’d lose you because carrying a piece of you, even in the form of a memory, would suffice.

But that’s not reality is it?

Memories are just memories.

Pieces of the past ingrained into your mind and soul, to be looked upon fondly or regretfully but never to be relived.