I took our pictures down last night.
It still hurt.
After four months of not talking to you,
I decided it was time.
I had been meaning to do it,
but I had to find the time,
the heart
to actually take them down.
I tried not to look at them too much
when I would get ready in the morning
or before I would leave the house
as I passed by.
Last night,
I decided it was time.
I took the frames down from their shelves
and laid them on my bed.
I took my hand and wiped off the dust.
While doing so, my eyes scanned over our faces.
We were smiling.
We were happy.
It was us
and that was all that mattered.
We didn't need boys,
we didn't need anything.
We were best friends
and that was all that mattered.
We used to go shopping.
The antique area was the greatest.
We would walk the brick sidewalks and roads to the CD store,
the collectible store,
and even the vintage clothing store.
We passed the tattoo parlor,
and I joked about going in and making my appointment.
I almost did too.
But I didn't,
convinced it was too far away.
Only to actually get it a couple of months later.
Rides in the Jeep with the top down on the way to the private pool,
with Starbucks in the cup holder.
We talked about boys we liked,
daily events,
and had those days where we just texted song lyrics to each other.
It killed me that I couldn't tell you about my day
and I couldn't hear about yours when you called
everything off.
Now, I know it's partially my fault.
But I tried to patch it all up.
You were the one who called it all off,
without telling me.
I was left in the dust, trying.
I knew it was coming,
but I didn't want to believe it.
It was hard for me.
I couldn't talk to you everyday.
I couldn't tell you about my day nor hear about yours.
I had lost that privilege.
Four months.
It had taken me that long to take our pictures down.
Maybe I was holding onto invisible hope.
I had avoided them as much as possible in those four months though.
My hand hovered over the frame once more,
reminiscing and wishing
for those times again.
Knowing they'd never come again,
not between us,
I flipped the frames over.
I replaced the pictures and my heart ached.
Ached for the good times we had.
But it was something I had to do.
I never knew pictures could make it hurt so bad.
My day went from already ****** to even worse.
I took our pictures down last night,
and it still hurt.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
I took our pictures down last night.
It still hurt.
After four months of not talking to you,
I decided it was time.
I had been meaning to do it,
but I had to find the time,
the heart
to actually take them down.
I tried not to look at them too much
when I would get ready in the morning
or before I would leave the house
as I passed by.
Last night,
I decided it was time.
I took the frames down from their shelves
and laid them on my bed.
I took my hand and wiped off the dust.
While doing so, my eyes scanned over our faces.
We were smiling.
We were happy.
It was us
and that was all that mattered.
We didn't need boys,
we didn't need anything.
We were best friends
and that was all that mattered.
We used to go shopping.
The antique area was the greatest.
We would walk the brick sidewalks and roads to the CD store,
the collectible store,
and even the vintage clothing store.
We passed the tattoo parlor,
and I joked about going in and making my appointment.
I almost did too.
But I didn't,
convinced it was too far away.
Only to actually get it a couple of months later.
Rides in the Jeep with the top down on the way to the private pool,
with Starbucks in the cup holder.
We talked about boys we liked,
daily events,
and had those days where we just texted song lyrics to each other.
It killed me that I couldn't tell you about my day
and I couldn't hear about yours when you called
everything off.
Now, I know it's partially my fault.
But I tried to patch it all up.
You were the one who called it all off,
without telling me.
I was left in the dust, trying.
I knew it was coming,
but I didn't want to believe it.
It was hard for me.
I couldn't talk to you everyday.
I couldn't tell you about my day nor hear about yours.
I had lost that privilege.
Four months.
It had taken me that long to take our pictures down.
Maybe I was holding onto invisible hope.
I had avoided them as much as possible in those four months though.
My hand hovered over the frame once more,
reminiscing and wishing
for those times again.
Knowing they'd never come again,
not between us,
I flipped the frames over.
I replaced the pictures and my heart ached.
Ached for the good times we had.
But it was something I had to do.
I never knew pictures could make it hurt so bad.
My day went from already ****** to even worse.
I took our pictures down last night,
and it still hurt.
*I'm a ***** and that's just how it is.*
