Tuesday, 11 April 2017

The Love of Forgetting

I remember our last time together.
Your arms around my waist, your face buried in my hair, your voice, whispering, again and again, "Why couldn't it work out? How did we fall apart?"
My fingers digging in your shoulders, as though they didn't care about the "why's" and "how's", as though they couldn't bear to let go. But my heart had already let go of you. 
 
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