I have always been known as a dreamer. Love stories have been my weak point.
You know those endings with the two best friends confessing their love for one another?
I thought that one day that was going to be our ending–our ever after.
But when you brought her over for the first time. Your eyes were telling me everything, and I did not know what to do–how to act.
And when you pulled me aside and whispered, “She’s the one,” I wanted to run but didn’t.
For I knew this was going to be the last time, I embraced you. I looked at your eyes–for they are the windows to our souls–and knew I couldn’t compete.
I smiled, holding my tears, and said, “I’m happy for you.”
This was not going to be my happy ending but hers.
You were not mine to keep but hers.
A part of me wanted to confess and say just how perfect we were for each other.
We haven’t spoken since. I still can’t accept it.
But the day I come to terms with it , I will visit.
I still believe in happy endings and fairy tales.
But for now, there isn’t one written for me.