heart

i held his heart so close to mine it helped beat my own. little by little, grains of his heart slipped through the cracks of my cupped hands until he was no longer mine. my heart feels hollow and foreign on its own.

it’s hard to know exactly where the fault lines were, when things began to end.  in retrospect, i can see – that we were different from when we first met, when we first fell into each others eyes. i cringe as the dominoes tumble with the accumulation of red flags and i recall the rise of anxiety and unease in my stomach.  but in this haze of heartbreak i do not doubt that i loved him with everything i had,and that he loved me. we were perfect in the imperfect way that embodied us. we were spontaneous and giddy and happy-- he would joke and i would laugh, he would twirl me in the kitchen and i would share my secrets. we were happy. so very happy together. using the past-tense is troublesome, as is this faded happiness-- because if love and happiness are not enough, then what in this world will suffice?

i have begun to write the ending of our story. because it is over. i am slowly processing it is over. i will type and cry for what could have been, and stow our failed love story in "the secret files" on my computer. 

that will be the finale to shipping hunter out of my life, because the rest of our future and memories are in a clear container in the recesses of my closet.

i believe that i will never stop loving him. but. i have hope that one day, my love for someone else will consume my heart and this pain and torture will be a distant memory.