If I ever see him again, I will probably burst into tears. I will sob and point an accusatory finger at him and through my deep weeping breaths say “You did this to me! It is all your fault!”
Once I collect myself, I will look into his speckled green eyes and ask him how he is. He will tell me he has a girlfriend and I will get jealous. Like every other great love I’ve lost, he will say ” You did it first. You got married.” He will ask me “What happened?” and I will know he’s speaking of the scandal. We will talk and laugh and we will feel that feeling that only comes with your first love.
I want to tell him how much he hurt me. How he didn’t only break my heart, he broke me. He held the key to my jail cell and allowed me to be free. The freedom we shared was bad. I want him to know that every time he fucked me, he fucked me up. Every line he cut left a permanent mark.
I want to ask why he used me at the end? I want to know if the “good girl” was better than me. I’ll say “She’s married now, you know, and she still carries a foolish grudge against me. She knows you loved me in a way she could never be loved.”
I’ll tell him that when he left, when he ran away, I was nothing. I filled that gaping hole with drugs and sex and self destruction.
I am still self destructive and I blame you.
Oh my God, I loved you so much.
I love you so much.
I want to see him and I don’t. What he is now is a mystery. No social media to stalk. He’s a ghost. A ghost from my past who scares me.
I like it when he scares me.
I think I scare him too and for as long as we live, he will never want to see me again. Because there will be fire and pain and the love you can only feel with your first love.