You guys got it all wrong. It’s not love that kills you. It’s the could-have-beens that do.
Love is beautiful. It makes you want to live. Laugh. Dance. But thinking and re-thinking what could-have-been makes you die a little inside. It numbs you. And you can’t even cry. Because, how can you cry over something that you never had in the first place? What a curse. The curse of an almost relationship.
You two were there. But, weren’t together.
”I like you a lot.”
“I like you a lot too.”
Each time you think about the kisses that burned you like the heat of a thousand suns, you tremble. Each time you think of his stubble that rubbed against your porcelain skin, your scar bleeds. His salt and pepper hair was much like what you two had. Neither black nor white. It’s those grey areas that keep you up at night now. Night after night.
And then gradually the texts stop. And the calls. And whom can you blame anyway. You guys weren’t together, remember? You can’t yell at him. You can’t blame him. You don’t have the right. Promises were never kept because they were never made.
Don’t blame love. Love doesn’t kill you. It’s the could-have-beens. They’re the real bitch.