The thing is, I knew he’d leave. A part of me always knew. He told me from the beginning, he didn’t feel anything. He was a stranger to emotions. And when he left, the pain wasn’t from his absence. In fact, when I think of him now I feel empty, indifferent almost. The hurt is from the time. Over those months and months of forehead kisses and surprised laughter, I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t make you change. My words couldn’t make you change, my touch couldn’t, my banter couldn’t. That small petal of hope I held so carefully in my hand is what killed me. Cause when you said to me “Maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, your feelings will only grow deeper” it permanently shriveled. And so did my smile.