Love.  Pain.  These are surely one in the same; or at least one will always, inevitably, lead to the other.

Today I have missed the love I have recently lost.  Those simple times, the cuddles, the comfort, the laughs, the safety.  It is all gone.  Not even a friendship emerging, as yet.  The pain is unbearable.  Even though I can justify that we weren’t meant to be, that we were no longer happy, etc, etc; the pain of remembering what we had is as intense as the love I had for her.  It’s exhausting; wondering if you finished it too soon; wondering if you’d worked hard enough at it; wondering how the trust could be broken; wondering if I’m just plain not the type to be in a relationship.

Why do we invite love in, whether seldom or frequent, in order that it may break us so?


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