I fell in love with you on a whim. Now, I have to pick myself up and learn from the fall.
You and I have talked so much that I sometimes can’t remember what you said. But he and I spoke so little that I can’t get his words out of my head.
The memory of his words persists like an itch that I can’t scratch, can’t resist.
What does it mean for us if he’s the one who I miss?
If he’s the one who I want to kiss?
If he’s the one who I can’t forget?
The only one who I want to regret.
Because I bet that the memory that he has of me is blurred across the many ladies who he’s scorned. Women be warned. He’ll borrow your heart and return it torn. Mangled. Forlorn.
But maybe we’ll learn to love. Aren’t we all just making this life up as we go? Maybe one day we’ll learn to build the right walls, the right foundation and let ourselves flow with the right people, let ourselves go.
And stop holding on to the past that does not serve us.
I will learn to see you as a lesson instead of my most treasured mistake. But, for now, there are slow steps to healing that I will learn to take. I will embrace this pain and allow it to build me into a more grounded space. Mindfully, slowly, gracefully, without haste…
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the mindful comedown.