Sundays boring Sundays. in Let's create something beautiful and destroy it!

Last year it was like clock work. Wake up Sunday morning shower, get dressed, throw on make up, clean my living room the best I could before 9 am when he'd show up on my doorstep. A day of holiness and rest slathered in our sin and our lust and all the naughty things you never admit to yourself that you want.

The first couple of Sundays without him were the hardest. Waking up early, running wild, heart on fire standing and waiting hour one, hour two, hour three, they felt like months standing in the cold I waited. the blood burning through my veins reaching for the one man who calmed the monster. I was see threw like glass and I shattered just as fast.

Like I said in the beginning "It feels like we're on a sinking ship. But I'll sink to the bottom with you." But you jumped ship but I wasn't willing to let go. I know you want to say you're sorry you just don't know how. I don't know how I know I just do. I just have to say there's nothing to apologize to me for. I'm hurt and sick of being alone but I will always love you.