I remember everything you forgot

and I didn’t romanticize it

I remember the way you sang to me

as we danced slowly in your living room to the song in the movie

I remember when the snow fell around us

as you helped me into your car outside the liquor store

I remember lying beside you reading poetry for hours while you slept

The books you claimed to buy for you, but I knew they were for me

I remember how you would wait to eat until ten pm

because you knew I’d skipped all my meals and class went that late

What I remember the most is the night you told me you told me

you didn’t love me

You and him.

You go twenty four hours without texting me.

He will call me five times a day.

You will go weeks without seeing me if I do not initate a date.

He asks me "when are you coming over next" every few days.

You never call me beautiful.

He tells me I'm beautiful when I'm wearing sweats and my glasses.

You are my boyfriend.

He is my best friend.

How did I end up with you and not him?

You asked about my past.

Every prior meaningless lover, a nickname I had given from the start.

Everest for the tall mountain I only climbed once.

Charming for the way he sweet talked his way into my heart.

Slow Rider for the way in which he took his time to learn every curve of my body.

Viking for the way he charged ahead breaking down all my walls.

“What’s my nickname?” you requested.

“You never had one,” I said, “you were always just mine.”

I keep trying to write it down.

To put words to your simple act of destruction.

It plays over and over in my mind.

Showing up to your apartment.

Typing the code into the keypad.

Opening your door.

Excitement flowing through my veins.

Joy I wanted to share with you.

My best friend.

I set my stuff on the bar and made my way to the living room.

“You look really happy!” you said.

“I am!” I replied.

The words poured out of me as I described the weekend.

I shared every joyous and anxiety filled moment.

You waited until I was done and laughed.

Not an honest laugh, but disapproving.

How long you spoke, the exact words you said, I cannot repiece together in my mind.

You mocked my happiness.

You tore apart every happy moment I shared, piece by piece.

And within moments, you had me convinced, how nobody could ever love me.

Nor myself being capable of love.

I don’t know where I found the strength,

but I laughed and joked back,

despite slowing dying inside.

My phone pinged and you scoffed.

I had to go; it was a saving grace.

I hugged you and left.

I cried the entire way home.

No, not just the entire way home.

I hid in rooms throughout the night, hiding my sadness from those around me.

Hours and hours, acting like it wasn’t hard to breathe.

When the morning came, I moved slowly.

Cautious of every move I made.

I held to silence for the day.

Questioning the worth of my words.

Questioning the worth of myself.

Questioning how easy it was for my best friend to destroy me.

For the one who loves less holds the power.

Destroy me.

Ruin me.

But please, for just a night, want me.

When I told you I loved you,

I wanted there to be no doubt in your mind it was true.

It's been almost four years since my lips spoke those three words.

For weeks, there had been moments I had almost just blurted them out.

Yet, these three words I feared more than a death sentence.

I was afraid once the words escaped my breathe, they would be left floating.

A feeling you would not want to catch.

Then, in a moment of need you sent those three words to me.

A typed text, tied to teetering moment of potential outcomes.

While I waited four years to speak those words,

I had also waited four years to hear them.

I couldn't type them back.

They were caught in the tips of my fingers,

but I wanted it to mean so much more.

When you told me you loved me,

I wanted there to be no doubt in my mind it was true.