Now that the Yankees have won another World Series, I wonder if you’ve changed your password to reflect the 27 championships.
This silence, while necessary, is heartbreaking.
I don’t know if you kissed me because you were finally able to after all that time, or because you were just missing her.
I hope we will look back and just laugh about it. “Remember the time we broke up and didn’t talk for three years? How funny!”
I always knew, deep down, that we weren’t going to get married. I wish you had said no that sunny day in March, even though it was one of the happiest days of my life.
I tried to get over you once. I tried again. And again. And again.
But at least you taught me how to be barefoot whenever I wanted. That’s something, right?
I miss waking up every morning to the scent of your sweat and Old Spice.
You once screwed me in the music library, up against shelves full of epic opera scores. Now every day when I go to work there, I glance at the spot where my forehead pushed the books out of place. They’re still messed up. (So am I).
I’m glad you met someone; now I can stop blaming myself for your loneliness.
I would stop being a trashy whore and just be your girl if you asked.
Without you, I don’t know how to be the person who deserves to be with you.
You both wrote songs about me. In yours I was a pigeon. In his I am a dancer.
Okay how about this: Can I just come over and kiss your neck for ten minutes? Just your neck. Just ten minutes.
You said I was all you ever wanted, yet you still left and kept looking.