There is nothing kind about pretending to love someone long after you’ve forgotten what their voice sounds like on sleepy, coffee-scented Sunday mornings. There is nothing authentic about excuses dripping in guilt. You know this. Yet somehow, you’ve decided the rosebush blooming next to your door, the one that caresses your doorstep with blood-red petals even […]
I watched you walk out the door, the clicking of the lock behind you sounding a lot like the word “goodbye” dripping from your lips. It felt like a punch in the mouth and tasted a lot like betrayal, but somehow an apology wasn’t worth the postage.