If I could tell you, I would.

 

I would talk for hours without restraint,

 

Telling you all about them

 

Telling you about each of them.

 

Each of their smiles.

 

Each of their personalities;

 

Their likes and dislikes;

 

Them.

 

Her face.

 

Her voice.

 

Her laugh.

 

Her kindness.

 

Her choices.

 

Her.

 

His handshakes.

 

His jokes.

 

His glasses.

 

His answers.

 

His emails.

 

Him.

 

Her skills.

 

Her creativity.

 

Her intelligence.

 

Her eyes.

 

Her hair.

 

Her.

 

The rain.

 

The dogs.

 

The flowers.

 

The skimmers.

 

Her glasses.

 

Her glasses.

 

Her glasses.

 

Her glasses were unneeded when we were there.

 

She was so happy when she saw it.

 

The lavender?

 

Purple.

 

Butterflies.

 

Her parakeet.

 

She has a parakeet.

 

She looked adorable when she got glasses.

 

Why didn't she wear them more often?

 

We had thousands of emails.

 

Me and him.

 

Me and her.

 

She stopped being friends with me.

 

I cried for months.

 

Ferrets?

 

Ferrets.

 

Green is better than blue.

 

3 is the only number that should exist.

 

It's her favorite number.

 

Not her, not her, nothernothernot-

 

Stop crying.

 

I'm trying to talk, so stop crying.

 

Stop thinking about her.

 

You'll never see her again.

 

I hate him.

 

He hates me.

 

He'll hate her too if he finds out.

 

I can't let him hate her.

 

She doesn't deserve his hate.

 

She likes ferrets.

 

And she has a pet cat.

 

Stop.

 

Crying.

 

Now.

 

Please.

 

Please.

 

You start thinking about her and then you can't stop and you cry and you hurt and you think more-

 

You love her.

 

Stop talking.

 

You know it.

 

Stop. Talking.

 

I don't love her.

 

You're wrong.

 

I can't be wrong.

 

Yes, you can.

 

You still love her.

 

Stop.

 

When she said hi to you.

 

Stop.

 

When she glanced at you.

 

Stop it.

 

When she tapped the top of your head and tried to pull your hood over, but she couldn't.

 

You fucking idiot; you love her.

 

You didn't tell her.

 

She has a boyfriend.

 

Lines might be irrelevant to this, but she's as straight as one.

 

You absolute fucking idiot; you loved her for months regardless.

 

Months.

 

Stop thinking about her.

 

You love her still.

 

I do.

 

You do.

 

I need to text her.

 

That's not what I was trying to say-

 

Shut up; I'm going to text her.

 

You don't have her number.

 

I'm also halfway across the country and still loving her, so what's stopping me from texting her?

 

You don't. Have. Her. Number.

 

You. Fucking. Idiot.

 

Doesn't matter; I'll get her number.

 

What will you text her?

 

I dunno.