Time and space my ass. After three years and hundreds of miles it still fucking hurts I wanna run to my car and travel those five hours to that little town, run down the aisle and tell him that he needs to know I love him before he marries.
I won’t, I can’t because she’s my friend and I love her, that and I have always hated seeing her cry.
I won’t because I know that he loves her, she’s his soulmate, his one and only, the reason he can smile every morning. But God, he’s the reason that I cry almost every night, the reason that I came back home, the pair of lips I would give everything to taste, to feel, to worship.
Come morning maybe at around nine I will dial her number, I will hold back my tears as I wish her a great life, I will tell her congratulations and hope that my voice doesn’t crack. Tell her that she and he are perfect for each other; that they are the lucky ones, the fucking lucky ones who found true love and all that pink and red bullshit that human being spend their entire life searching for.
God, fucking shit. Mother fucking ass shit. Damn shit fucking hell. I fucking love him and tears me up a fucking million different ways. I hate him. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. But I would give everything for him to love me.
Maybe I should have said something. Maybe I still should, but I like being able to hear his voice not filled with pity. I could never darken his big day. God I want so much to really hate him. FUCK.