Last night I shared what I hope to be my life’s masterpiece with someone other than you. I didn’t plan on it, but he was interested and you don’t read my stuff anymore so I asked him to wait a second while I found its profile on my computer.
Instead of sending it to him like I did with you in its raw form, I read it aloud. Yes. I was going through with this but I wanted it to be with good taste. I couldn’t share with him the same version of myself that I practically threw at you. This was also the first time the words escaped my lips and because I could see his face through the computer, I witnessed his eyes shift as my words painted on the canvas in his mind.
It felt really fucking good.
Unfortunately, your name was still the first thing my heart thought to whisper the next morning. Sometime during the night, you finished your studies and snuck into bed behind me twisting our bodies into the mold they are accustomed to. Light breaths graced my neck as I questioned my actions. It didn’t feel wrong. You didn’t care anymore. Some days I wonder why we’re still together. I question why I’m still with you. I love you. That’s true. I love you more than you can ever imagine anyone to be loved. However, the about of like you have in your heart for me will never amount to the love I have in mine.