When I wake up and the pillow next to me is still warm, I can almost see his shape pressed into the sheets. But I've fucked up far too much to ever deserve that warmth in my bed. I wanted so badly for him to believe he was perfect just the way he was. I wanted so badly for us to always be together, standing at the riverfront waiting for the December sun to rise. But I can't change who I've become just as much as he can't stay the same.

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