Every Love Story Is a Ghost Story
You could say we tried. Got sober together. He was younger. I let him love me despite better judgement. He moved to Syracuse for me. If only grand gestures could make a relationship.
I remember he called me a cunt. Tried pushing me out of the Saturn while driving. My name tattooed on his arm. Hurled my coffee table at me. Called my mother, told her he was going to marry me.
I got a check in the mail a few days later, memo read “for the table.”
I wrote him back. He hadn’t bought the table, only the brokenness.
Photo credit: Ingrida
really……. i like this story… is that really what happens…….
ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL. I loved every word.