Legs wrapped around sadness born from passion that was thought to have died two days before but revealed itself again with no warning. The tears meant nothing but goodbye. She can never trust him now.

Yet he still stands a little too close. His bare skin brushes on hers in the middle of daytime business. She wishes his was an honest encounter but awareness tells her he is playing a game that although, she has won, she can never claim victor. He has sabotaged the rules with rightousness that he doesn’t even believe in. Still he holds tight. Wanting her to want him with all that exists.

She can’t. She walked away before, a thousand times, from hearts that fill with selfish needs and although the pain builds from the thought of missing him, she has built a strength like no other. She could say goodbye to the very oxygen needed to sustain her life if she felt it penetrate in a pain as deep as he provided.

Still, she prays that it was all worth it. When every time she sees his name, his face, and she cries and she screams inside herself, I hate you, that the little pieces she gave him didn’t ruin her completely. That there is still enough to sustain her through the next tragedy that threatens to break her heart.

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