Love.

In its crispest form, it drowns you whole. The way the lines and trying times form a composite for you to hold onto as a crippled memory – that pattern has long enchanted my thoughts. Those city lights pale against the backdrop of your visions of happily-ever-after. He faded from view, though for a long while I had dreamed the world would put us back into that bedroom where I first thought I fell in love. Yet the skyscrapers that light up my world these days – I know now it was worth the goodbye that dried out my heart.

It was a perfect broken heart that powered me that cold November morning, when I drove eight hours South, away from a man who was more pure than I could have ever prayed for. Those tears that blended into my voice when I called you as I headed out onto Highway 7, they return to me now. For it was an act as selfless as it had been selfish, and I mourn now not because I need you, but because that day will forever be as beautiful as it was bittersweet.

My tendency to romanticize the past is the sole reason you still exist in my world. Somewhere between those flights from state to state, and our dropped phone calls, I learned to let you go.

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