Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I will never again wear my favourite shade of green in fear that when I drape it over my body I will have flashbacks of the bridesmaids dresses I now have to beg the local wedding shop to take back. Every time I see something creamed color I'll just see dirty white. It's no longer soft. No longer elegant. It's just a slap across the face a reminder that red wine stains it just the same as pearl white. I'm aware that I should be crying at home trying to piece it all together, but I can't. I can't go back to that apartment that's littered with photos of the two of us. Littered in magazine cutouts so I could brainstorm ideas for our perfect day. Maybe I should have known better. Maybe I should have noticed the way his voice changed on the phone the other day. How when he said I love you it didn't sound like it always had. Instead it sounded like an apology, but no apology would fix this. No apology would have him show up yesterday. If it feels too good to be true, maybe it is. Maybe fairy tales are just meant for the storybooks. Maybe I wasn't meant to be the love of Angel's life. Maybe this was how our story was meant to be played out. Me walking around a ballroom wedding makeup still on, but no wedding band on my finger. Running around collecting the pieces of what could have been in hopes it makes me collect myself. These maybes are going to drive me insane. So instead I'll leave this all behind, because if he can walk away this easily why can't I.
