Yes I'm still playing guitar and yes I still write poetry. But lavander is no longer my favorite flower, it tends to leave a bitter aroma in the air. And now black is my favorite color, like the color of my bedroom all the nights I lay awake searching for stars on my ceiling. I still think of you from time to time but the romance my mind told me to feel has disappeared. I can't say I'm much happier but that's because I've been damaged. It's not entirely your fault, but you're not faultless. I can honestly say that I've stopped missing your hands. I don't love you.
It's 2:31 in the morning and I still have trouble sleeping. But I'm no longer laying on a pillow drenched in tears. I'm laying next to someone who loves me more than you ever could.

-k.d.