I hate writing about you.

Because I have so much already,

I always imagined what life with you would be like.

- I mean all of life…

Moving in together,

Getting a cat together like you always wanted.

I thought of you meeting me at work cuz I forgot my lunch at our house,

And watching Moulin Rouge together- even though you would hate it. But you promised that we would watch it cuz I love it.

Fuck, I imagined you getting down on one knee and declaring your love for me,

And I imagined us picking out the paint for a nursery.

- but I never imagined you leaving. Not because I thought we were perfect but because I didn’t want to think about not having you in mg life.

The thought of us not together is like glass stabbing at my lungs.

And you leaving happened so fast I couldn’t phantom what to say when you left, so instead I said-

Okay,

Like I didn’t care.

But I do, I do care.

I checked up on you a bit ago,

You said you were so happy.

-so much better now.

Maybe it’s cuz I over romanticized things,

Because In reality we weren’t perfect.

But you made me feel safe

No one can make me feel like how you made me feel again. And when you asked if I was okay,

I said yes.

I lied.

Because the truth is,

Life without you makes me see in black and white again.

Nothing excites me like you knocking on my door did.

Nothing makes me happier then your calls did,

Nothing will ever make me feel safer then your arms did.

I have no motivation because I know, that you will not be waiting for me when I get up.

And that makes my life without you- miserable.

But hey- I’m glad your happy.