We were young and she was willing.
Yet I still wonder what kept me from opening the door. In love’s brutal aftermath when memory is reinvented as pain, all you see is through a very crimson perspective and everything that once was becomes tainted in the memory. Sometimes I wonder what I’m saying, why I’m saying it. I wonder if I’m only trying to justify my actions. Or is it the truth? When you live a lie, you forget what the real truth is. The lie becomes your reality, hence your truth.
I still remember the way your soft smell lingered on my clothes, hours after I had left you. I still remember the last time I held your hand. No matter how much I hated you then, it was still hard to let go. Sometimes the cookie crumbles in funny ways, and this time I just wasn’t in the mood for a laugh. I moved onto better things, but I still can’t get my mind to deny what we had. Even through all the pain, I can’t change the fact that somewhere on a distant day, in a forgotten place in our hearts, you meant the world to me.
So I’ll love you in this moment, and hate you in the next. But please forgive my indecision, I’m only a man.