Counting

When I was a kid, I would count up from one and imagine a big surprise would be waiting for me at ten. When nothing happened, I was confused and disappointed.

I think of you at one; the first time I saw you. Your smile at two and how it made sweet you were to me. Your lips on mine at three and at four your hands are running wild on my body. Once I reach five, you’re telling me you love me and your hands are running down my bare back. Upon reaching six, you become… distant and secretive. Onto seven, you begin to spin a web of lies that I am swept into. At eight, I find out and I break into a million pieces. You leave without feeling guilty about what you did. At nine, I’m alone, trying to find all of my broken pieces and put myself back together. And now, at ten, you’re back, acting like nothing had happened beforehand.

And just like when I was younger, I am confused and disappointed – very disappointed.

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