It was a love/hate thing. Some days, a soft spot, others, a freight train. It was a really great thing, until it wasn’t; a love conquers all thing. Until it didn’t. It was me and him, and him and whoever, picket fences and kids and a dog. A rain tree, two palm trees, and the feeling of safety, wrapped up in his arms. Betrayal, truth, goodnight kisses, and parties and holidays I wouldn’t have missed. Fights that went on day and night, neither of us really wrong, or right. Falling apart and together, at once, unable to let go but too blind to watch the pain that was etched in the lines of our faces. Empty promises, cold embraces. We still stayed together as though we were one. Then, one April, he was gone.


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