But the most tragic part of the whole affair is that I dealt the crippling blow out of compassion, not fear or pain as I suggested. That I lied to protect her. I told her I couldn't be with her that the memory of what she had done was too great. That she should move on. And that's what she did. Already far away she some how became even further. Her number changed, Facebook deleted and address lost in the sporatic chaos that is my memory. Our relationship crippled to never again occur.
So now I am left only with her memory, the love notes she wrote me, a duct tape ring, and love notes I was too afraid to give her. And pain. Lots of pain.
All I want is for her to be here for her to laying next to me teaching me once again what it is to love. I want her blue green eyes that strike like a vikings hidden waterfall and that little gap between her two front teeth and her hips so perfectly formed to the way I would drape my arm around her. I miss her laugh and geeky smile, the way she could talk of the flow of poets and art for hours. God damn I miss her. Felicia,  I am so sorry. I was wrong.