Good Mourning

I love the view from your window. Huddled in the sheets with a cold breeze coming in is how we attempt to mend your broken heart. You look into my eyes for so long that I start to ponder who you were when I once loved you. They say mourning is black, but it’s really the color of pines framed by stormy skies. With your hand over my heart you felt my pulse quicken as I made these realizations. Knowing that I belonged to someone else for a fortnight seemed to break you. You fought hard to keep your tears swelled up inside, but I know you were crying last night. I know I never came “home”. You should have realized that I could not wait forever for a chance at loving you. As you looked upon my face I looked outside the window and the breeze that was flowing in kissed me for a few seconds before letting me turn back to you. I was mesmerized with its cool breath and I think I understand what it means to be present and in love. I love the person next to me, but I don’t choose to be in love with them. I decided that love comes in the form of branches swaying and gray skies as I lay down with the window open. This love that I feel belongs to the world, not one person. Good mourning.

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