I don't know what hurts more...

I don't know what hurts more– missing you, or knowing you aren't missing me back.

There was a time when my mornings would start with you beside me. “Good morning,” you'd tell me with that smile I adored. Now they start in silence and me scrolling through reddit posts from people who feel the same pain.

It's haunting knowing I slept curled beside you all those nights believing I was safe, and knowing what I know now. That I was lying next to a person whose hands that held me so preciously would one day reach for a gun. But I slept blissfully unaware.

I was in love with inconsisent fragments of you. But it was such a beautiful image 💔