His coming home.

Seven years is a long time, but it shouldn’t have to be an unhappy time. Kisses should still be passionate and tender, hugs should still be long and tight. The way we look at each other should still be like the first time we’ve looked into each other’s eyes, that feeling where you feel like you’re the only one in the room. The love we shared should still be intense and amazing.

Somewhere along the years, ours faded. It was still there, but it was jaded. Seven years is a long time, I know that and I know that it’s crazy and almost impossible but it doesn’t have to be that way.

It wasn’t like I stopped loving him, or that I had someone else. I might have had a crush on someone, but if I had to choose, it would always be the love of my life. I asked for sometime apart, not to be outta his life. I wished he understood.

This has been the longest half a year I’ve ever had. He’s coming home, and I’m not a part of his home anymore.


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