Dear John.

The worst part of  distance is wondering if you’ll be missed. A wasteland of guesses and subtleties grow by the list. 

I won’t beg to be wanted, to be more than a memory anymore. Remember the heart and the dresses, the smile that you practically owned. The heart on a platter in your open fist…I don’t know how to be something you miss.

Dear John,  I’m learning how to be left and to be okay on my own. I’m learning how to not to treat my heart like a loan. Sweet John,  I can’t keep trying to prove that I’m worth keeping. My Love, I can’t keep being afraid of sleeping.

My knees are weary from pleading and my heart is weakened from bleeding. I’m relearning alone, trying to set the pieces back right; the civil war inside me are both losing sides.

Try to remember the hope that I was. Try to remember my soul. Don’t fight the contentment you knew deep in your core. 

Dear John,  I’m learning how to be left and to be okay on my own. I’m learning how to not to treat my heart like a loan. Sweet John,  I can’t keep trying to prove that I’m worth keeping. My Love, I can’t keep being afraid of sleeping.
I don’t know how to be something you miss. I never wanted your choice to be this. 

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