I couldn’t let her go.
And I knew she wanted to let go of me.
I forgot her birthday on purpose and it has been months since we have exchanged words.
Still, I am tempted to send her flowers, anonymously, or to admire her, like most women, from afar.
And I don’t feel sorry for myself or hate women.
My heart still remains my own, protected, and strong.
It wants things that others do not want. It is not willing to settle for things it does not love.
It has more guts and takes more chances than anyone will ever know.