You'll probably never fully understand what it does to me when I see you with her. Holding her hand like you used to mine. Doing "the look" when she does something completely out of left field. That was mine. As much as I say "I'm completely over you! You broke my heart into a million pieces!" I still, somehow, manage to love you with every fallen shard. Do you remember last summer at all? The places we went; things we saw; and words we said. I don't know about you, sir, but they seem to be etched into my memory for good. Or at least until I condition myself to think otherwise.. but in case you aren't aware: Pavlov is dead.
So here's to you... wherever you are tonight. I am going to spare you three words, plus one.
I still love you.
And that's the end of story.
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