(in response to the November Notes Writing Challenge  as hosted by A Reading Writer and Heartstring Eulogies.)

I sat alone as usual, my mind a wasteland, scorched by the memory of the heat of our passion, nothing remained. I was searching for the words I needed, the paper before me blank and mocking.

The day before, I’d been full of hope, sure I could win her back. While I’d slept our encounter had replayed through my dreams, her voice telling me, “too little too late,” and “you threw us away”, the look on her face after she’d slapped me.

I woke in a cold sweat with a feeling of dread that it was too late. That I could never make amends for what had happened to her.

Part of me said I should leave her alone, move on like she’d told me too. A very small part. The rest of me was looking for the words to win her back. That part of me was sure, knew that the love I felt for her was real, knew that our love had meaning. Knew that it was worth fighting for.


If I could, I’d give you the world, make all your wishes come true. All except one. The one where you’re wishing I’d leave you alone. I know you’re thinking it. I know you’re rolling your eyes at the bear. Cute isn’t he? Someone for you to hug when I’m not there.

Do you remember waking up tangled together? I miss that, I miss you. All the little things about you … are you twirling your hair right now? Don’t bite your nails, there’s no reason to be nervous baby. Well, maybe there is. I’m feeling like this is so very one sided, why wont you play with me?

Do I need to give you instructions, maybe set you a little homework? Or maybe we need to reverse that? Maybe you need to give me some homework. I’m willing to be your Hercules but instead of twelve labours of penance, you can set me twelve labours of love. Let me prove my love to you.

Waiting your instructions …



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