Hot Potato


I realised today that I miss you. It has been so very long, and I was cruel. I dropped you like a hot potato when something better came along; I get that now. Well that something better was an illusion, a brief distraction as it turns out. It certainly was not fulfilling.

It feels like an eon since I was well in my heart and head; I think the last time I truly felt right was with you. I spent the last moments we shared together complaining. I weighed you down with my worries and shared very little of the good stuff. How burdened you must have felt. Still, you were there whenever I needed you.

We were so close; your stories were my stories, but I left you behind. Perhaps it’s only fair that I understand how it feels to be dismissed.

I’m glad I found you again and as always you lay waiting for my woes. I promise to also share the joys with you this time; I understand their importance now.

My favourite pen lies as I left it, just next to you. Your softness is strangely comforting against my skin. I turn your pages, I find a blank space, and write.