“I do not love you anymore.”
My heart ached, begging for a night in, a tub of ice cream.
Liquor, warm and hot, running down my throat.
Tears, running from the past down my cheeks.
Gripping what was left of myself, I ran.
I ran through photos and echoes of laughter,
Nights spent laughing on my couch while the moon hung so low, we had to duck beneath it,
As we snuck out my back door and into your car,
Music so loud, the stars danced along with us.
Our hands intertwined,
like legs between bed sheets.
”I love you,” the only thing louder than the silence were the cars passing around us like time.
But that is merely a “what used to be.”
”I don’t love you anymore.” the silence shakes the ground.
In that moment, my hands go numb and my lips shake.
I realize.. I am no longer a child.