I’m learning to be patient. It was never a strength.
The city street was as wet as her face. Streaks of color from the lights of the bar reflected in the slick asphalt. Thin rivers of mascara snaked down her cheeks, lightly freckled from many summers in the sun as a girl.
I seriously felt it break apart in my chest — that thing I called a heart. Not because the love was ever really that deep(ly shared) but because it became so clear that it never had been at all. It was humbling and horrible to admit.