With you:

The moment I fell in love with you was a dangerous one. I couldn’t tell you when exactly, but I remember how giddy I was with excitement at the idea of seeing your face, your smile. It lit me up inside. I swear to God I have never felt the warmth spread the way it did when you held my hand. My body buzzed all over at your scent. You always read about the cliche feeling of being in love, and I thought it wasn’t possible, a bunch of English poetry, but it’s real.

The way my heart beat faster when you brushed my hair was too much to handle.

My grades would suffer for you. I would drop anything and anyone to have you. To have you look at me, with those sincere, brown eyes. You were my everything. I swear to it up and down. I’ll never get the look of your laugh out of my mind. I saw it almost everyday for so long. I reveled in making you laugh, a real, deep laugh. I liked the way I could put my fingers through your hair over and over again and trace all the parts of you that you kept from everyone else.

Your arms never fit so perfectly around me, your kiss never felt so sweet on my collarbone, your heart never had a bad intention.

You were perfect to me.

After You:

You destroyed me to the point that I had nights I laid awake, waiting for you to climb back into bed and tickle me to the point of tears. I waited for you to wake up and kiss the back of my neck. I waited for you to let me rest my head into your shoulder so your arm could fall asleep. You’d have to nudge me awake to regain feeling.

I thought of you when he was sleeping next to me. I stared at the ceiling. I never stared at the ceiling with you. I slept quietly with you. I slept almost too much, so that you’d be awake, waiting for me. I wished you had waited for me.

I’d look at him, and the next one, and the one after that, expecting the same glow, waiting for it, wanting it, craving it. When he held my hand, I wanted the same warmth. When he looked at me, I wanted the soft, brown eyes I knew. When he laughed, I wanted your crooked smile.

When he kissed me, I thought about your lips. I don’t even remember what it feels like to kiss you anymore. That hurts the most. Not being able to remember how it felt to have you kiss my forehead, or my cheek, just because. In all honesty, it’ll always hurt. It’ll hurt my bones until the day I die.

I waited so patiently for the day tears didn’t come to my eyes, thinking about the moments I took for granted. It felt like forever with you, and I wished it had been.

Much After You:

Time has passed. What you did to me was criminal. There’s no need to explain the amount of damage it caused. You know. It’s been so long. After you, every time I got close to someone else, I looked for you. And when I couldn’t find you, I stopped trying.

The after you part, it hurt. I had to take a step back, remember who I was, find myself and stop looking. I spent all of my time alone. I read more books, I drank more coffee. I ran harder, faster, longer. I took hikes alone. I made spontaneous decisions. I spent more time with friends I had lost. I went home alone all the time. The bed was empty, and that tore a hole in me. But I vowed to never be with someone because I was lonely.

I would never again be with someone because I wanted to feel the way you made me feel. I started thinking about all the times it wasn’t perfect. I thought about the bad because I spent too much time on all the good. Why was I looking for you if you weren’t looking for me? Why would I waste my time on someone who doesn’t want to waste their time with me?

I firmly believe that if I have loved someone, truly loved, with everything I have, I will always love that person. But I can’t let it hold me in place. There is so much more time, and so little time too. I don’t want to waste it. There’ll always be another sunrise, another hand to hold, another person’s eyes to fall deep into. There won’t be another you, I’ve come to terms with that fact. But there won’t be another me either. And I’m so sorry for you.

After you, there was me.