"Mistakes I Made"

"What in the world could you have done to constitute her fleeing from the scene you two created?"

He runs a distressed hand through his unruly, brown, curls. This had been the cusp of it all.

"By letting go of her hand I insinuated that it was okay for her to leave, for me to be an asshole towards her. It's not like I meant any one thing I said to her, but that doesn't change anything. Her heels are still clicking in my mind against my hardwood floor, tears hitting her cheeks. On that day I wholeheartedly fucked up. She never proved to be this fake, manufacture, dull-minded girl. Her thoughts were acute and opinionated but they didn't antagonize anyone. She didn't stomp on eggshells around any body, never took shit for anything. And I can't keep confessing to myself that it's too late, because then the midnight hours will pass by me in the blink of an eye and I'd still be drawing images of her in my mind. That mysterious, covered up manner that was also stripped out in the open for everyone to come and marvel at. Her smile, showing all the wrinkles on her face, all the years of laughs and good times of memories we too shared. I'm praying that some of those crinkles came at the cost of me, and hopefully, if I'm lucky, she won't erase them from the portrait on her face. Her nails seemed to always be chipped, a mess really; but I didn't matter because she was a spoken artist and she didn't need tiny, minuscule details to make her seem beautiful. All she had to do was utter a few sarcastic words and they'd fall instantly in love with her. That's what awakes me most at night now, the thought of her in a bar, talking to some guy that will understand her better than I ever could. But I mean it's all bullshit now I guess. I'm not saying I wish for her to be a miserable old hag for the rest of eternity. No, I want her to prosper and for people to see just how amazing a crafty and sharp mind can be. It will never be about how much skin shows beneath her dress or how much eyeliner she wears on those bright, hopeful eyes. It's only about what words fall out of her mouth and how it resonates with people. See this girl makes people fall in love with her words, her voice, her mind. You can say I'm living proof for that because all she had said to me was, "You dropped your drink on me you imbecile!," and then I was enraptured by her wit, doomed in her love."