Month 1
I would tear out the rest of my organs and offer them to you just to finish the collection you started when you walked away with my butchered heart if that would bring you back.
Month 2
When you left you promised me that it would get better. But I can't think of a single promise you didn't break, so I'm not sure I really believe you.
Month 3
I've almost completely forgotten the sound of your voice. The only words I can still hear you say are "I love you", and it's driving me insane.
Month 4
I'm back in the city where we first met for the first time and I'm a nervous wreck. I'm constantly terrified and hopeful that we'll get a second chance meeting.
Month 5
A year ago we'd lie awake on the phone on opposite sides of the country just listening to each other breathe. Now I lie awake wondering how I could've cared so much.
Month 6
I could've said yes to so many people since the day you left. But right now being alone is hell of a lot easier than the thought of trying to hold an unfamiliar hand.
Month 7
Everyone around me has completely forgotten how deeply you cut me. Only I can see how slow wounds to the memory are to fade, but also how tough the scar tissue has made me and my heart.
. . .
