I wrote you a letter

I told you I miss how you made me laugh and all those 3am conversations and how you made me feel pretty when I know I'm not.

I wanted you to know that.

I told you that I still see you sometimes when I close my eyes and if I leave them closed long enough, I can feel your breath on my skin and the memory of you washes over me as if I'm lying at the edge of the ocean. And I drown.

I wanted you to know that.

I told you that when you closed the door in my face, without one word, one reason, that it was ok because in that moment, that single moment, I knew exactly what you were. And all your lies came crashing down around me and I could barely breathe.

I wanted you to know that.

I told you that the last tear I ever shed over you burned like fire across my face and I was furious. I ripped that letter to shreds because fuck you, that's why.

I wanted you to know that.