He is mine, I am his. Except… We are not. 

I’ve been putting off going to see him for a while and deep down I knew why. I’ll not rehash the entire relationship and it’s end. I don’t have the ability for details that hurt right now. 

But I want to remember the details that don’t hurt. The unique smell of him. He’s the only person who smokes like a chimney and I actually crave the smell. The taste of his neck under my tongue. The chuckle, the rare giggle. The slow snore. His hands. The soft way he looks at me when I’m little. The way his brain works. His loyalty. How protective he is. How he is with babies. His arms. His complete acceptance of me. The challenge. How he finds the loophole and closes it. He gives me rainbows. He lifts couches. How he trims his beard but never shaves it because he knows I like it. He listens for hours about finger monkeys. The two a.m. phone calls. The whisper in my ear. 

I could type a thousand more things and the list not be complete. 

I love him. We can’t be together. I wish I didn’t love him. I’m so grateful I love him. I’m so angry I can’t be with him. I love him. I hope I will love him forever. I hope he misses me. I hope he loves me. 

I hope he loves me forever. 

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