Rendezvous
17 February 13 : 05.16 AM
On the way home, dropping him and him home, I couldn't cry. I knew it meant that there was something I wasn't letting in, but I wasn't going to probe.
Even to this point, as I'm lying in bed, looking at old photos, looking at old words written for, I'm not letting it in.
If I let it in, maybe I'd realise how wrong I've been and how far removed I am from the person I used to be. (It felt good, these months, it did.) Then perhaps, the tears will never stop flowing.