March 4, 2013
I was unpacking when I heard you walk in. I had on light pink lipstick that I found at the bottom of a box. You put a few things on the counter and handed me my car keys. I kissed you and asked if you could help me move the bed. You said you needed to talk. I keep replaying this over and over in my mind. I don't think I'll be able to unpack the rest of our boxes.
April 4, 2013
It's been a month since you left.
Mark says you're not coming back.
I can't sleep.
Are you awake?
May 4, 2013
I finally went to the doctor like you had begged me to.
You were right and yeah, I'll be fine.
June 4, 2013
I sold my engagement ring at a pawn shop today. I bought expensive lipstick and flowers. I also bought a lot of beer and a carton of cigarettes. I've lost a lot weight since you last saw me. My friends from high school that I haven't seen in years hardly recognize me. It's weird being back in this town without you. I spend most of my afternoons at the beach. I saw a sea turtle today while I was swimming. I miss eating breakfast food at midnight with you.
July 4, 2013
I stumbled across the video of you in the car singing Taylor Swift. I deleted it before it played all the way through but I have to admit it made me laugh. I can't remember how your voice sounds saying my name. I broke down and called you. Thank you for not answering.
August 4, 2013
I dropped my cigarette in my lap when you drove past me today.
September 4, 2013
I went on a date.
He thinks Bud Light is "quality beer".
It just isn't going to work out.
October 4, 2013
It doesn't hurt anymore to say your name.
November 4, 2013
Hope you're doing well.
December 12, 2013
Thank you for setting me free.
March 4, 2014
It has been a year. I heard you moved to Baltimore. I don't know what you've heard about me but I hope it's that I'm happy. I hope you've heard from our friends that they often see me sitting in the sun, laughing with my hair in a braid, collecting seashells and running straight into the ocean with no fear.
