An Aborted Relationship

Raindrops fall like tears on my window, and I press my face against the glass, and pretend they are mine. They are the adopted children of my barren eyes. My heart doesn’t ache, and I feel almost okay and almost all right, and I wonder if this will ever hurt, and then it does. The pain hits me like a wave, a tsunami of hurt, with no forewarning. I double over and cry out, it hurts so bad. I want it to just go away. My stomach hurts, my head aches, my vision is blurry, but all of this is barely a scratch next to my broken leg of a heart. I think someone reached inside my chest and tore out my heart and now there’s a hole, a gaping, black hole, in the middle of me and I want to scream. I want to shout and cry and moan and curl up into a little ball and stay that way for days.

I see his name, and I cry out again. Just hearing his name hurts. Seeing his name hurts. Thinking his name hurts. Everything hurts. I try to get rid of the traces of him. I delete his name from everything, get rid of everything about him, about us. But there’s still a hole in my heart. Although it pains me to remember him, it pains me more to try and forget.

How, I wonder, can his feelings for me be tossed away so quickly, so easily? How can he just be want to be only friends? We were meant to be, I knew it. We were so different, yet so much alike, and we had chemistry, and we had fun, and we could talk, and we had so much potential. And it was gone. In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

How can you miss something you never had? How can you long for someone you never held? How can you wish to go back to the days that never were? How?

Didn’t he tell me that he’d wait for me forever? Didn’t he realize how wonderful he made me feel? I want to tell him how he’s ruined all the other guys for me. I can’t like anyone else, because I measure them up to him, and they all fail. They all come up short.

I gave him the key to my heart, and he gave my heart back missing pieces.