Unfinished business.

I’d be lying if I say I don’t think about you. In fact, there are a million little things that remind me of you…like the setting sun that pukes red or the dog eared pages of my books that you left, our scribbled initials in tiny notepads or the chilling winds that once made you hold my hand. Oh how I miss the warmth of your big soft hands and the way my heart raced every time you looked at me with those playful eyes and that teasing smile. I miss how stupidity smitten my heart was and how happy and easy you made me feel. 
So maybe i’ll just sit here with a strident superannuated 90’s melody on repeat, blaring in my ears yet whispering to me, tiny excerpts from our story. Maybe i’ll just be here, in the middle of a summer night, years after, crumbling another letter that i put my heart out. Maybe this is the way i’ll forever be, revisiting us in the desolated nights and bemoaning at the epilogue every time.
So, maybe this isn’t about setting forth. Maybe this isn’t about looking back either. Maybe.. Just maybe i’ll forever have pieces of you engraved in my soul and maybe feeling them beneath my finger tips is my solace to our unfinished business.

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