I used to love you.

I don’t know what happened to make me stop loving you.

I used to love everything about you.

I loved every little piece of you; all of those pieces put together made a perfectly imperfect you; & that was who I loved.

I loved your smile.

I loved your beautiful chocolate eyes.

I loved your beautiful, light, airy laugh; like the sound of tinkling wind chimes when I said something so funny you couldn’t help but laugh with me at my ridiculousness.

I loved the way you giggled uncontrollably when something was so funny you couldn’t seem to hold back; & those giggles were reserved for me & for me only.

I loved your husky voice in the mornings & the way you’d groggily answer my wake up phone calls.

I loved your husky, completely reassuring, incredibly calming voice filled with the slight twang of your (just barely there) New York accent.

I loved the way that the muscles in your back went crazy when you played baseball & basketball & lacrosse; or any sport; how all my friends said they were jealous because of the beautiful guy I had managed to catch the attention of for always & a day.

I loved your hair; how it was so soft, so pretty, so shiny; I loved that when I played with it, your head lying in my lap, you’d almost instantly fall asleep.

I loved the way you’d sing me to sleep at night just because; just because I’d asked you if you could, just because you wanted to; & my favorite reason; just because you loved me & knew I loved it when you sang to me.

I loved the dozens & dozens of cherry brandy roses you’d send me on Valentine’s Day, even though we were going out to dinner that same night — that you felt the need to send me my favorite roses; my favorite flower throughout the entire day to let me know just how much you needed to prove to me that you loved me.

I loved the single gold rose in the middle of each dozen cherry brandy bouquet of roses.

I loved our kisses — The passionate ones, the fierce ones, the gentle ones.

I loved our hugs; how you were always so warm & I wanted to stay in your arms for forever; I loved that you were willing; that you let me.

I loved when we held hands because I was scared, because I was tired & needed something, anything to hold onto. I loved that you didn’t give me questioning glances when I slid my hand into yours & didn’t give an explanation as to why I needed you — You simply accepted the fact that I needed you & held on tighter than ever & gave me a comforting squeeze; like you knew, without a doubt, that everything would be okay.

I loved your smile.

God, I loved your smile. Those precious flashes of your pearly whites were rare & foreign to anyone & everyone; but especially to the people you didn’t know well. & when someone got a smile out of you, it was like they were getting a surprise present; something they had wanted for awhile, but it wasn’t their birthday or Christmas, so they didn’t expect it at all. It was hidden from their sight; behind your back, & you’d pull it out, all wrapped in pretty wrapping paper & tied with a sparkling, shiny bow in a complex pattern.

That’s what your smile was like: an unsuspected, gorgeous new present that was rare & almost never given.

God, I loved your smile.

I loved your humor.

I loved your (almost always) constantly sarcastic tone.

I loved the amazing, completely stunning Polaroid pictures you took that you had never shown anyone — until you found me.

I loved you.

What happened to us? What happened to the raw, burning, fiery, incredibly, passionately intense love that we’d shared?

I used to love you.

But I can’t remember, for the life of me, why I loved you so much; why I put so much effort into needing you; wanting you, loving you.

I’m crying; bawling, big, fat, hot tears rolling down my red cheeks; my breath ragged, my chest heaving as it desperately tries to inhale the oxygen it needs between my uncontrollable, sporadic sobbing.

I’m crying while I write this.

Can you please tell me why?

I thought I didn’t miss you anymore. I thought I had stopped loving you long ago.

So why does this hurt so much? Why is there still an aching, throbbing, constant pain in my chest where my heart used to be?

Why do you still have possession of my heart? Why do I still have yours?

We used to be inseparable — We used to always be together; & if we weren’t together, we were texting, or e-mailing, or BBMing, or talking on the phone together; all day, every day.

What happened to us?

I loved us.

I loved us so much.

I thought I had stopped loving you long ago.

I guess I thought wrong.

Love,
Me — The girl you used to love…The girl who still loves you.
Yeah, remember me?
Didn’t think so.