You Are The Story I Do Not Want To Tell

I cannot tell our story. It brings too much ache and heart. In our tale, there was a boy that was afraid and too careless and a girl that loved too much too soon for this other human.

I wish I could tell our story. It would be a neat bow tied around a pretty package; it would be an exploding firework and a handful of sparklers in the quiet dark painful night. It did not matter how it ended, just that it began and ended in love.

Our story, the one that got away or our biggest mistakes, weighs heavy to my fragile heart. There is no untangling or painting over. Instead, it is heartache and broken fragments.

Maybe there is a someday to this story. Perhaps, there is a moment of grace, of the unfurling of white flags. A piece of the story that silences the painful screaming of a wounded heart.

Until then, I will wait. I will hold our fractured story tightly in my hand. I will let the pieces tear at my hands as quietly as I can muster for you deserve the grace to break someone without repercussion.

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