This is your eviction notice. Your placeholder, an unattainable musician, is helping me move your memories. Not sure where they'll go but at this point, I don't want to know. Then I'll locate them and consider bringing you back knowing you'll ruin the good ones. I can imagine it now. You, setting the good ablaze and replacing them for even more deplorable ones. Me, wondering why you thought I wouldn't see the smoke.

To be fair, I didn't the first time. For however short this was, I invested in you. Broke my rules for you. I fell for you. It's embarrassing how hard I fell for you considering how hard you tried to run me off. Our friendship was a forewarned curse I didn't want to believe in. I shielded my eyes every time you pushed me hoping I wouldn't hit the disappointment waiting on the floor for me. Damn, how did I get to the floor?

Let me pick myself up and go back to...shit, I remember this time.

You held me so close on that subway platform.

Sang to me so loudly on that walk.

Kissed me so deeply on that night.

Now the tears are daring me to let them fall. Why am I giving you this much power? I'm not the only one fucked up. I know you still watch out for me. I probably haunt your dreams like you do mine.

But there's still a part of me that has hope. If an apology escapes your lips, and we let go of whatever bullshit we're lugging around, we could start over. We could fall all over again. Our expressive eyes could lock and say all the things we're afraid to let the air amplify. You still have time.

I'm damn near leaving you breadcrumbs, not so silently wishing you'll come back to me.

A notice isn't the last action. And even though your placeholder keeps tugging me away, I can't seem to let you go yet. But please remember the operative word here is yet.

Read Part 2, The Repeal

- Written by Evon Williams of the blog Lover. Writer. Budding PR/Marketing Consultant. Emotional and Mental Growth enthusiast. Sex Positive Supporter.


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