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Love you, honey, but I think I'll live

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I think it was the 1985 when Lewis and I broke up. I can still remember the bitter sweet kisses we shared those last few weeks. Come to think of it, that’s what they were. Kisses. Nothing more. When we were in love, they were fireworks, hearts colliding as one big frenzy, a love I can’t explain. I still remember going down to the docks, and how he would tell me the lights off the water set fire to my amber eyes. He used to kiss my cheek and we would exchange stories of summers when we were little. He would laugh in that way that made my heart flutter and twist with glee. I didn’t think we could dream any bigger than we did then. Nothing could stop us.

Lewis, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for finding you at our spot. The spot by docks. We used to love that spot, positioned right underneath the beach tree and by the ice cream shop. Now I think of it as the spot where you left your body, swinging from a rope on that beloved tree.

Why did you do it, honey? Why? There are plenty of other girls out there, waiting for your love. Or was it not me, your motive. Was it your drunk dad, or your dead ma? Was it your best friend, Marty, who failed school so he could become a movie star, dumping you and leaving you with the title “shitface” in the process? Was it them? Tell me, Lewis. I love you.

Lewis I’m sorry. I tried to buy a time machine, but unfortunately they haven’t been invented yet. God! Another hit and miss love! When will it all end? When? Lewis, you never told me I was beautiful. You showed it. You were, what I like to call “passive complimentary”. Don’t wait for me in heaven, baby. Don’t wait. I think I’ll live a little while longer. I can’t go like that.

I mean it, Lewis. Love you, honey. But I think I’ll live.



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