I was 

Supposed to marry you. 

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I wish we were taking out this mortgage for a place of our own. I wish we still spoke. I wish we still spoke of our plans to move in together. I wish you still loved me. I wish I could still feel your love. I can’t feel it anymore and I’ve never been so cold. 

Sticky

Your words are sticky, dripping with gooey sugar crystals. They coat my throat, block my airways and choke my wind pipes. 

I never get to eat sugar, it’s bad for my teeth you say. But sometimes you force it to me and it’s artificially saccharine. Like Splenda. I know it’s not good for me but I still like the taste. Only it’s slightly bitter. 

The move

I cried myself to sleep last night beside him because I’m moving on… 

without you. 

The end of a chapter that tore my heart in half and left me out to bleed.