It's been three years. Winter still brings back memories of you.
I can remember so vividly this night the middle of December at two in the morning and you without your clothes on blushing in the dark and me with my camera in hand, hoping you didn't hear the shaking in my voice. Both of us trying so hard to act professional. I was already in love with you by this time.
Or the night that the stars fell, sitting in your truck shivering but not because we were cold. The night I thought you loved me too.
I remember how cold your house was while we were between your sheets. Just one night.
I gave you my all and you held back, you waited, you wanted to entertain other options, you wanted me to wait.
A marriage, a baby, and 3 years later, I still regret not wanting to be your second choice. I deserved to be your first choice and you fucked up. I hope you know that it's your fault. And I hope it bothers you. You don't deserve me.
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