How many loves, I wonder again? Some loves, like ours was, are like wrecking balls in glass houses. And wrecking balls have no business being in glass houses like I had no business loving Christian how I did once upon a time, except that sometimes, some loves keep your head above the water when you’re drowning. Some loves might fog up a phone booth on a rainy London afternoon and make you feel less alone than you did before your lips touched. He’s leaving what we had behind, like he should. Like I should have let him so long ago. But I’ll miss him on my rainy days.
