caden

letter 3

dear caden,

i saw you for the first time in months today. i wish i could say it was magical, something out of the fairytales, but it wasn't.

you were standing in the frozen foods section- god you were always such an awful cook- and we made eye contact for a split second; that was i t.

no slow motion hugs, or lust-driven kisses. not even a hello-how've-you-been. just heart shattering, hollow eye contact.

and it wasn't what didn't happen that killed me, it was what did.

because god damn caden, i really thought i meant something to you; but your hazel eyes were a void, and mine were a whirlwind of emotion that could never exceed my heavy eyelids.

and i guess i'm starting to understand now that you might never have loved me, and the more i think about it, the more i realize you hadn't really said it.

he said that he loved you that one time when you were seven, my brain refuses to let me move on and, f u c k, i really want to caden.

but whenever i'm about to convince myself that this was all fake, my bitch of a mind has to remind me of that time when we were ten.

we were sitting in your tree house- oh how i loved that damned tree house- and you stuck out your pinky and told me that from then on we'd express our love in linked pinkies and lightly tinted cheeks.

and even though i had told you i loved you too when we were seven, i don't think i really did until the day-of-the-pinky-promises.

i want to say that i'd do anything to take that day back, but shit caden, i love the shock that runs through my feeble body every damn time our pinkies touch.

i want to say that i don't miss you, but god fucking dammit i'm in love with you, caden.

yours (unfortunately),

piper