Old Flame

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The words you uttered into the silence, the meaning lost on everyone but me.

You held my eyes for but a moment, regret flashing across your face

The ghost of an "I love you" playing at your lips

Not once did I expect you to continue, for I knew it was the end

Yet I studied your face, hoping and hoping for another sign that maybe there was still something there.

Drunk words are sober thoughts and somehow, I knew. I knew this would happen.

I didn't cry that night. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I was at peace.

The chapter had reached it's final sentence; the book had been closed.

You might want to pick it up again one day but I already know the ending.

It's quite sad, really, but I healed.

I hope you do, too.

-Dedicated to the first boy I ever loved

~ written a week ago; four months after the last

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