As I sit and spread out what you spoke for the hundredth time,

I realize that I was not ready for this

For a once-off fling

And it's not the *** that ******* me over,
It's all the days spent laughing and listening to your stories,
Doing broke things and having unplanned sleep overs,
Watching movies while you play with my hair,
Having morning smokes and coffee while people-watching on the veranda.

I invested so much time
And effort
And I cared,
I still do

I've become used to you.

And I had hope
That you would eventually see me in the same light as I you,
That you would notice me in the way I notice every interesting detail about you.

But you wanted a fling
And I agreed.

And now I'm sad
Because I will probably wait for you to be ready
Knowing the time will never come.

And I cannot begin to fathom the ache I'll have when I have to see you with someone else, someone more interesting,
More open to new things.

And I'm angry that I told myself that, maybe just this once,
I should open myself up
And try to put myself out there despite the fear of getting hurt.

I am not ready to let you go,
But I need to protect myself
And I will mourn this loss

Because you are everything and so much more.

Thirty five degrees
Laughter
Wet sticky sand
Dripping ice creams
Rolling waves upon splashing bodies
Boardwalkers hand in hand

I find myself beneath the air conditioning,
Cheek stains from the films watched before,
Legs sticking to one another,
Stomach swelling up over clothes,
Dripping ice creams and crumbling cookies,
Rolling waves of guilt and self-pity.
My depression and I lay on the couch
Hand in hand.