Wake up new

Dear god please let this be the last time I cry about you.

At this time last year I was worried sick about who you were with and what you were doing. I rode home quickly, changed, went to bed. You called and invited me to jump in the lake with you in the morning. I was so excited, so happy you asked. You promised to spend the day with me. But of course you were late, didn't remember our conversation. I was cold, angry, short with you. After we baptized ourselves in the freezing water, I stubbornly ran to get out of the wind and bundled up again while you climbed back into your sister's warm car. I remember shaking so hard that I couldn't get my socks on. My fingers wouldn't bend, I was using my thumbs to try and hold things against my fists. You came back for me though. Took me to the car, held my hand even though we weren't alone.

I want a love that doesn't make me feel like I need to get even.

I don't want to write about you anymore.