Who Would Have Loved You More
June 4, 2010
My heart wouldn’t stop beating.
It was like a drum, bursting free from my chest and booming so loudly I knew he must’ve heard it. His face knocked the wind out of my chest, his voice sent my whole world crashing down. He smile, his touch, his eyes.
He said he’d call, see how things were. He never did and I am glad for that. He could the blood rushing to my face, my pupils slowly dialating. He could see it all and he knew I was scared and he knew I was helpless. His eyes were staring straight at me, searching my body for an answer to his question.
Is everything alright?
The sooner he left, the better things would be.
I like to blame him for everything. I hold on to that grudge because it’s all I have left of him. When he walked through the door and saw me there, it was easy to blame him. He looks the same. He smells the same. He sounds the same.
It made it easy to blame him.
Genna said it best, you’re too logical and sensible to let this happen. I am mature in life and young in love.
Time to grow up. Time to let go of my grudge. Time to start blaming myself.
