I know our time has passed. When we talk, the magic is gone. You don’t look at me the way you used to. Friends tell me you have been seeing other people. They tell me you smile. They tell me you laugh. They tell me you are happy. But I am not. Not yet.
I cannot be happy when I still remember your arms around me, comforting me over tasks I didn’t think I was going to deliver. You were there to see me through those mental breakdowns.
I cannot be happy when I still remember the times when I would argue and argue and insist I was right when I so clearly wasn’t. You were patient and kind in leading me to the truth without having to say I am wrong.
I cannot be happy when I still remember being really uncomfortable in my own skin. I sat silently, going over all the things I hated about myself. You knew, somehow. You knew, and you told me I am beautiful. Not pretty, not cute, you told me I was beautiful. You knew when to say it. You knew when I needed it.
I cannot be happy when I still remember walking to work, singing love songs in my head, with a spring in my step, laughing at random intervals because I was thinking of you.
I cannot be happy when I still remember feeling on top of the world. I remember thinking no one had anything on us. You made me feel special, you made me feel out of this world. You understood me and I understood you. We were happy; we were perfect. There is no other relationship like ours, you said. We talked, we laughed, we cried, we smiled, we danced, we loved. We loved.
I do not want to be embarrassed about still loving you. I do not want to be ashamed that I have yet to move on when you are in a completely different place already. I don’t want to be sorry that I still think of our time together and what we had. This is where I am right now. This is how I feel. I will forget. I will move on. But for now, I will still love you.
For now, I have to mourn before I move on