We spent all summer together.
I slept til noon every day, which now I regret because I realize I could have spent more time with you then I did, but each day I woke up, I woke up to a phonecall with a voicemail to follow it up.
You would say “hey babe, it’s me” because you knew I had your voice memorized.
And even if I hadn’t, I had memorized the pattern we spent our summer following.
You’d call me while I was sleeping and wait til I woke up, and I’d call you before I blinked for the first time that day.
You could never wait for me to get ready, so you’d come and watch me as I picked out my outfit and put on my makeup while you proceeded to tell me each and every day that I never needed it.
But August of that summer, you left.
You went to bootcamp.
I wrote you every single day, multiple times a day.
And you replied when you got the chance, which wasn’t often but understandable.
And even though you are hers now, I keep those 12 letters you wrote me those 10 weeks away from home in a wooden box on top of my dresser because knowing they’re there brings me back to you.
To that summer we were so happy and in love.
That summer you took my heart.
And that same summer you never gave it back.