I had so much to say to you in my whiskey-induced ramble. That I wanted your strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me closer. I wanted to rest my head on your chest smelling what was left of Old Spice on your body, rubbing off onto mine. I needed to hear your deep breathing, see your eyes looking at me in the hints of light radiating to your bed. You were beautiful—too good to be true. I fell in love with your struggle and the heart you still had left. Kissing your scars, learning about your wounds; holding your rough hands, I swear I felt it all. I wanted so badly to be the one good thing you could call yours.

The vacations I spent cuddled in your arms and swimming in your deep green eyes made my whole summer something worth holding onto. I wish so badly I could forget it all now.

Three cigarettes and two glasses later, I start asking what I did wrong in loving you. I feel you course through my veins, rattle deep in my bones. You’re already on my mind, couldn’t you just make this easy? You’re like the rain. You ruin my whole day, but somehow you make me smile. They say if you love someone… let them go. If they come back, they’re all yours. They also say that if two people are meant for each other, it’ll eventually pan out. God I hope they’re right.

Winter is rough. Everything dies. I hope with the Spring something new, someone new, blossoms for me. I can’t keep drowning you in whiskey and exhaling you with passing paper planes. I need to stand on fertile ground, sprout my roots and stand for something.

The stars at night are the only thing getting me to the next day. Somehow they speak gentle promises. New starts. Happy endings. But one thing I know for fact is… I’ll make it. Maybe we won’t, but I will.