I keep waiting to not be sad anymore, but little things remind me of his unfaithfulness and inside I die again. I try to hold back the tears, until they prick with pain. Sometimes the warmth of the trail they leave is the only clue left behind that I have been crying.
How is it that sadness has filled me to the brim and now carelessly spills onto my cheeks? I was happy once. Really, truely, genuinely happy. And now, I AM SAD. I am done.
Et tu Brute
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