The Saddest Part

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I watched as you walked down the hall with her on your arm. A fresh purple bruise hung under your jaw. The pain in my heart hurts to fucking much as the memories flood back. Of us laughing tears filling our eyes. Running through the streets late at night. Not giving a fuck in the world. I remembered how we took that one camping trip with your sister and you told me you loved me. I remember every single memory. But you moved on.

You wanna know the saddest part? The saddest part is knowing that we could have made this work. If you loved me half as much as you said you did we could have made this work. You would have fought for me. But you didn't. And that just means I loved you truly. I loved you more than you get loved me.

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