Beautiful Guilt.

Walking through the gates of his old house, his feet came to a halt. Nostalgia washed over, drowning him in the vivid images of the past.

He felt his throat tightening. Was it the unsaid sorry that stopped his breath or was it the realisation that a year ago he made a massive mistake?

Guilt, they say it kills you. But his guilt was painful yet beautiful. A beautiful kind of ache which was about to set him free.

In this state he wrote a letter to the girl he broke.