There’s a couple of reasons I never talk about my ex, reasons why I never sit and reminisce about what we had and how we had it. There are reasons It’s hard for me smile about the good days, to laugh about the jokes we had. It’s not because I’m spiteful or bitter or because I hate him. 

But because he did something to me that I didn’t know if I could recover. He didn’t just break my heart, he didn’t just lie or cheat.It’s not that I never loved him,because I did… 

But he left scars on my self esteem. Wounded my way of thinking and suddenly I couldn’t even look at myself the same. I saw myself in the mirror and saw someone who, in his words,  had to run more and eat less. And truth be told I stopped loving myself long before I stopped loving him. And by the time I walked way, I was broken and mangled. 

Yes we had beautiful moments, when we went to the places where the stars sleep, when he held my hand and walked through life with me, when the moon was our light through our darkest nights. 

But he painted over those memories, and suddenly when I kissed him I couldn’t taste his soul anymore, if I did, it tasted a lot like whiskey now, he was no longer my night on a stallion but a staggering drunk who took my heart out my chest and traded it in for a couple of shots. 

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