Valentine's Day, One Year Later

I heard a knock on the door.

I pictured looking out the window and seeing your pink cable knit sweater, the one you always like to wear on Valentine’s Day.

This time, I opened the door to something different, you weren’t wearing pink. Or red. Or that bright smile on your face.

I gave you a heart shaped card, one trimmed with lace that looked homemade. But I didn't make it.

I remember the dark brown of your eyes staring back at me, it made my stomach turn. So beautiful and intense.

You gave a little grin and stepped inside saying, “Thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I took your hand to bring you inside and that was it. That was the last time I loved you.

I don’t think it was all of the sudden like I just made it seem. It was only in that moment, I knew something felt off, and that something had felt off for a little while. Like I would say to do one thing and mean another. Like I was purposefully swerving away from you. Sure, that’s my fault. But I didn’t understand the disconnect.

I couldn’t get these thoughts into words on that day. Maybe if I did, something would be different. But it was then, on Valentine’s Day, when things changed for no particular reason.

Then, I brought you to the table. The one we ate at for three years and slowly finished our meal from our favorite restaurant down the block. I had set up the candles for you. And the flowers. I noticed your pink shimmery lip gloss,

And I said, “I love you.”

I was lying. I knew then that I was lying. You couldn’t tell. Not yet at least.

I’ll admit that was a mistake. You didn’t do a thing. You couldn’t. Because you were perfect. You were good for me.

You glowed like the sunlight reflected off of fresh snow. Compared to you, I was just the shadow you would leave behind. Anyone could see that.

I knew this, and maybe you did too…maybe you knew you were too good for me and that I would ruin something eventually. I ruined it before you could. Because I didn’t want to let you down again. It was just the little things then. The ways I would mess up, and you would somehow fix them. But they felt so big to me. Like I was incapable of doing anything right. I couldn’t let you down over and over again and still be okay with myself.

You deserved better. You deserve someone who doesn’t lie, someone who won’t stomp in your snow.

You said, “I love you” back and I knew you meant it. That’s when my heart became slush.

But I couldn’t let you go, I wanted you to stay. How could I have done that to you? Made you stay while I wasn’t in love anymore. It was cruel.

That’s why I never really cried when we broke up. Or after. I had known for so long already. I had mourned the relationship while we were in it. The love we lost seemed understandable and the picture of our future faded. I didn’t give you that chance, that luxury. Because I didn’t tell you…I couldn’t tell you. I stole away so much of your time and I’m even doing it now.

But thank you for listening, for giving me this short time.

And so a year later, on Valentine’s Day, I wanted to tell you the truth. I wanted to come to you and apologize for everything. To give you the truth that I couldn’t give to you back then. So, that’s what this was...if it was even coherent enough for you to understand. My feelings didn't make sense so I'm sure neither did this.

But for the last time, let me say, the mistakes we made together were always mine. Not yours. Because if this was love, at the beginning, then I was wrong…to do any of it. To have done anything after that Valentine’s Day.

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This piece was inspired by "For The Last Time" by Dean Lewis.