For me heartbreaks aren't sudden waves of sadness drowning you. Heartbreaks come in slow motion for me.

The first phase is me being in a huge denial. Keep convincing myself that I'm okay, I will be okay. No matter what happens, I'll always be okay.

The second phase is me trying to make myself busy, because there's something tugging at my heart. In this phase, I turn off the radio, throw away all your favourite candles, and stop going to places we used to hang out because they're associated with the memory of you. Your shadow still lingers.

The third phase is me acknowleding there are some things filling up my lungs, that won't go away anytime soon, and no, they're not the seeds of love you used to plant with hugs and watered with kisses.

In this phase the stars don't shine as bright. In this phase I find myself ordering your favourite cuppa—desperately trying to remember how you tasted. In this phase, I dug into my closet, trying to find one, just one of your sweaters you used to leave at my house, trying to remember how you smell.

In this phase, I'm seconds away from picking up my phone and call you, begging you to come back.

But the harsh reality slaps me; you don't love me anymore.

And I tell myelf; I still do.


—    d.f.p / / italktothemoon