Dearest.

 

Her tears would never fall again for him; he would never break her again.

If he had stopped to look, just look, and maybe for a moment, he had paused, he’d have seen that she was hurting. “Why?” he might have asked “Why do you not tell ne about your pains and desires? Why leave me to wander?” Of course she won’t tell him about her hopeless, sad wishes. He had given her every reason to feel guarded. There are doors that have already been shut tight, and she had sealed the final lock. Once more, she will never admit to her hurt, about how he had hurt her, about the countless nights she stayed awake, hoping she would hear his gentle whisper, calling to her in the middle of the rain underneath a starless night. Like an old movie, she had hoped that somewhere in the dim of the day, she would be with him instead of him being with her.

Dearest, most beloved, the road in front of has long past the fork. We’re two birds in mid-flight just trying to find home. I’ll find you again, maybe, and you’ll find me, indefinitely. Remember these words before you shed another crocodile’s tear: 

“Be careful of the next girl whose heart you break

 

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