dear sly smile,

I want you to know something important.
You really did break my heart.
You didn’t mean to maybe.
You probably want nothing to do with knowing why or how.
It takes too much time.
It’s hard to think back to before.
You were only a friend with a hot body and a sly smile.
We joked and laughed and the tension talked louder than me.
You wanted my time.
I listened to all of your jokes.
I envy those times often.
You made me feel the way sunlight feels.
It sticks to warm skin and the wind can't penetrate it.
Surrounding everything in light and seeping into the darkest parts of us.

It’s hard to say I regret kissing you.
Kissing you was my favorite part.
You hated it.
You hated the way I’d bite your bottom lip because it was sensitive.
But everything about you to me was perfect for awhile.
Even your imperfections.
The smell of your deodorant mixed with YOUR smell.
You own 100 colognes and somehow all of them smell ****.
They would draw me in and strangle me with lust.
They'd make me feel caught - entangled in your spider web.
And I wanted to be there.
Wanted to feel you when I rolled over in the morning.
Wanted to listen to any of your 4 laughs that came out.
I’d always listen for the real one.
When I heard it, I was so happy.
To know you were genuinely happy in that moment.
You were just laughing.
And it was like a poison.

I fell for you unexpectedly.
We hadn’t slept.
You were saying some ******* about the stars and the pyramids.
You looked at me and buried your nose in my eye.
Ran your finger down my eyebrow.
It was those little moments that made me weak with you.
Those times when you felt free enough to tell me your thoughts.
Your stories.
Your weirdness was like Kryptonite.
I ******* loved it.
And I loved you.

People told me I was crazy.
They talked about you like you were a bad person.
I stood up for you.
I said you were a good man.
I loved you.

You never knew the value of your words.
You told me to bring the pictures from my house to your house.
You bought "us" a Keurig.
You told me our kids would be perfect.
You got serious  and offended when I laughed.

Then you'd say how unsure you were about us, but I loved you.

You landed from being deployed for 2 1/2 months.
I was drenched from rain and wind-whipped.
You gave your dog so much love.
You walked away from the crowd and your friends so fast.
You didn't so much as kiss my cheek, but I loved you.

I sent you snacks and candy and mini-cakes.
I sent notes that took days to write so as to not sound too clingy.
“They got thrown away after something spilled”, but I loved you.

I said "I'm proud of you" in a genuine way.
I gave a professional recommendation for you at our job.
You got promoted.
I loved you.

I told you about my ****** assault because you made me feel safe.
You said “a lot of girls had that happen”.
As if I was just another statistic.
But I LOVED YOU.

You told me you needed to be on your own.
You had other girls come stay with you.
You blocked me for no reason.
All I did was ignore a text and remain quiet to avoid conflict.
You act as if I’m the one playing games.
I'm the one causing tension.
But I have only given you exactly what you wanted.

Space.
Time “alone”.
Which to you means “single.”

I HATE MYSELF for still wearing your sweatpants sometimes.
For having an Air Force t-shirt of yours I forgot was in the laundry.
For keeping your house key on my key-chain just because.
For remembering the good parts of you.
For thinking of the time we made out in the shower.
Your fingers grasped my cheeks, neck, hips.
The water was dripping and the music playing.

I HATE MYSELF because despite all you've done I still love you.
I love your ******* smile.
The music you play.
Your dumb sense of humor.
All of your laughs.
Your cute *** dog.
The way you handle situations.

I HATE MYSELF because I can't delete the pictures.
I can't stop checking if you’ve unblocked me.
I can't get the thought of you kissing anyone else out of my head.
I can't think about her biting your lip.
Her washing the dishes.
Her eating soup with the spoons I bought as a joke.
Or her in another pair of your sweatpants at 2 AM.

I hate myself because
I’M STILL
*******
PROUD OF YOU.

I hate it.
You still have me and I hate it.
And you don’t have to try.
Not at all.
I picked myself up from being broken.
I stared at my wrists in the tub and chose life.
I didn't quit my job and give up and run.
I didn't delete the pictures.
I didn't tell everyone that you ruined me.

I hate myself because I'd be ready to fall apart again tomorrow if it meant you’d just apologize.

If it meant your lips on mine one more time.
And I hate it.
I hate that no matter how unsure you were I wasn’t.
No matter how much you hurt me, I thought you were perfect.
I didn’t look for problems.
I didn't look for imperfections.
I tried to always have solutions for everything.

YOU wanted malice.
YOU wanted confrontation.
YOU wanted to blame me for arguments.
But they were what YOU WANTED.

And despite EVERYTHING...

I still think about those pyramids.
Dancing in the kitchen and getting stopped by a kiss.
The way I held your fingers the night you left.
The way your whole face lights up when you smile.
The kisses you gave before you left when I was with you.
People-watching and laughing at the Chinese Buffet.
When you'd say “this is our 1st time [fill in the blank] together.”
All of your clothes I wore.
Racing to our job and running inside.
The music. All the music.
You fixing my Apple CarPlay and driving my car to your house.

None of them will go away.
These memories.
I hate that I want them to but I don't want them to.
I can't ******* decide.
And it hurts.
It really hurts everyday.
I hate that the sun on my skin doesn’t feel the same now.
It reminds me of why I hate you and I love you.
And I don’t want any of it.
But I do.
I want all of it.
All of you.
All the time.
And you don’t.
And that’s all.

sincerely,
the fool