It’s been days since I’ve slept and instead of counting sheep I’ve been counting the days since you slammed the door shut. There’s a table in our dining room full of apology letters and dead flowers. The letters are full of things like “I forgot to tell you” and kisses imprinted with your favorite lipstick. I spent most nights tracing the outline of your face with your head against my chest and now I’m just tracing the skin of every place you used to touch. I found love in the crevasses of your neck when my lips were pressed up against it and I thought you’d be a little bit more sincere when the time came to close the door. I remember you laying against me one night,quiet, we were both fading into the silence of four corners and even the sound of the water crashing against the rocks couldn’t block out the sound of the voices in our heads trying to convince us that there wasn’t anything here worth fighting for. Eventually the water stopped crashing and so did our lips and I spent nights laying in bed by myself trying to comprehend the way you left until I finally realized you can’t force someone to realize that you are what’s best for them.