An open letter to the first boy I thought I couldn't live without

An open letter to the first boy I thought I couldn't live without,

I've been writing this in some way or another for too long. 
I'm not sure if I should start this with some sort of apology or not but I'm just going to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't teach you right and I'm sorry if, you're anything like me, you're still trying to get over those mislearned school lessons as we flipped through our 15 page dictionary, trying to define love. But maybe that's the only way to live, to look back and know that you had no idea what love was. 
All I know is that, if I could go back, I would tell us what I know now in words we could understand. Love is like a skydiving. The joy is in that moment when you step out and you start falling, only in the moment it doesn't feel like falling as much as it does flying. Sometimes the only people who can see what direction you are headed are the people watching. 
Now that I'm the one watching, Sometimes I find myself wondering what kind of man you are becoming. In my mind, you are still that thirteen year old boy with the smooth freckled cheeks and brown eyes and I feel so old. If you saw me now, would you even recognize me? If I saw me now, would I even recognize me? 
I've learned so many things in the past 3 years. I've learned that I don't have to apologize for who I am. I've learned that loving somebody doesn't mean that you own them. I've learned that trust is something that has to be earned and sometimes cannot be fixed when broken. I've learned that people change and sometimes it's ok. 
I hope that you are happy and that you love her. I hope that every day, you learn how to love her better than you did the day before and you can sit down and add another word to your definition of love. 
If I was a heroine in a novel, I would write you and say I could say that I've found another boy and we were just not destined for each other....but this isn't a novel, and I'm not a Heroine, so I'll just say this. 
I have someone who drags me out of bed on Tuesday mornings when it feels impossible and writes me reams of love poems so I can read them on hard days. Someone that reminds me, that it's still ok to love, because the pain will fade, but I can keep the memory of the light outlining the curves of your face in gold, reminding me the sun sets, but it also will rise again. Someone who knows me better than anyone else and yet is discovering new edges of me all the time. Someone who tells me everyday that I am enough. And that someone is me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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