I lay on the bed,
one arm clutching a pillow
firmly against my side,
and the other outstretched
against the mattress.
I'm struck suddenly with the
not-entitely-unwelcome
thought
that out of everyone
in the world,
I'd choose You to be lying
in my arms instead
of thin air.

You were my first
and truest
love.
You will forever be
my
One Who Got Away.

it's been 6 years
since our fiery breakup,
and I don't actively
mourn your presence anymore.
I've come to terms with the fact
that I am the one in the wrong,
and that you deserve to never hear
from me again.

best to live and let lie,
afterall.

the last thing I did as part of
your life -
perhaps without your knowledge -
was to acknowledge
my toxicity to your outraged friends
and promise them to never contact
You again,
given they made sure to pick up
all your broken pieces.

I'll forever regret who I was
to you in the end.
stupid teenage decisions
that threw you away,
and caused my own unhappiness.

this sudden thought of you
as I'm on the precipice of
sleep,
though,
reminds me that
there will always be a part of me
that still loves you.

my little sister informed me
the other week
that my mum still talks about you.
I kept you secret for so long
when we were together -
not wanting the piece of heaven
I'd found in you
to be possibly scrutinised.
I eventually told her, though.

she never talks about you to me,
but apparently,
she still regularly comments
to others that she's never seen me
as happy as I was with you since.

I don't know how to
process this information.

all I know
is that it's midnight now,
and I'm staring at my outstretched arm
in the pitch black darkness,
wishing you were here with me.
© O.M.A

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