Dearest A.

May 26th.

Dearest A,

You're probably still hurting after what happened a week and a half ago. I want you to know that I'm hurting, too.  I miss you. I miss the comfort and feeling of reassurance while in your embrace. I miss your smile and the way your eyes always seem to sparkle more when I was around. I miss being able to fall asleep easily in the security of your arms. I miss being able to communicate as easily as I did with you. I miss the texts and the nicknames you've given me. "Goodnight and sweet dreams baby queso." "P.S. My beds gonna be a little lonely."


Words on a page cannot express how guilty, mortified, desperate I am. I'm sorry. I don't know how many more times I can apologize or how many it would take. I know a simple apology will never do.

I no longer have your trust, but did I ever have it? Some small portion of my being can't help but think that I was being tested and with your knowledge. At the first sign of weakness, I've been tossed out like an unwanted penny.