Thinking about it I do know why I'm having so much trouble, and the answer is really so simple. I love him. I'm still madly in love with the man who made me last, and I wish I could figure out why.
Maybe it is his gentle heart, or his soft touch. Or it could be the man I saw behind closed doors, the man who revealed to me his innocence, the part that no one else was allowed to see. God I miss resting my head on his soft, smooth chest, the place where I felt the safest.
I refuse to believe him when he said that we grew apart and that I deserve better. That is farthest from the truth because despite all the craziness, there was no man alive that was more perfect to me. My perfect imperfection.
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