confession london


I can't pretend that I don't miss him. And I can't say that it wouldn't hurt a bit, deep inside my heart, with every single beat.

I remember him right next to me on that couch, two weeks ago but it feels like it happened in a different world, a universe far away. Sometimes I wonder if it really happened or if it was something I daydreamed, something I imagined, I wished for maybe. But then I find a note he left me, look at his coffee cup still sitting in the sink and one last bottle of beer in the fridge, waiting for him to come back.

I remember him walking next to me, quiet with eyes that were wide awake and this smile on his lips if I made a joke. I remember him singing his favorite old country song, over and over again and I still remember every single word, every rhyme. I remember how his eyes light up when I offer him chocolate after a long day of traveling or when his first cold beer is put in front of him.
I remember his lips. His eyes. I remember what he tastes and feels like. His warmth and how safe he made me feel.

I can't pretend that it didn't happen. And I don't know if I should embrace what I feel or run, if I should hope or ignore, if I should believe or give up.

I just can't pretend that I don't miss him. That's all. No love of my life romance, no happily every after endings, no dramatic heart break.
But I can't say it wouldn't hurt a bit deep inside my heart. I can't say I wouldn't think about him every day. Or that I wouldn't remember, remember everything, remember every single precious second we have spend.
20.4.15 23:18

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