It occurred to me that the wrapping up of our relationship might have gone too easily. After declarations of love and an awkward attempt at moving beyond friendship, it seemed like it should have been more difficult and heart-wrenching to deem our efforts failed. We scraped the remnants of us off our plates and agreed to start again. I should have known that feelings and desires would cling like a stubborn gravy, time having fused them to his heart.
She's nice.
It is not meant as malicious or even disapproving commentary. But as soon as the words leave my mouth I know they will not do, and I get that sinking feeling. His eyes plead with me. Please make me feel like she can replace you they seem to say. I struggle between my conflicting duties as his friend and former love. I could say she's great and perfect for him, but the intensity of our friendship makes my already pale lies virtually transparent.
I would never speak for him, but I think he's suffering silently.
These are the words I should have known I would hear. I turn my plate over and over again in my hands, searching for lingering bits of hope to match his. But I can find none.
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