The One That Got Away

So this week’s challenge from is to use the word ‘pluck’ and the definition ‘to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly’.

I still think about you. Everyday. Sometimes for hours at a time. Or just until it starts to hurt too much.

I miss you. To the moon and back. To infinity and beyond. More than you could ever know.

I miss your smile, and the feel of your hair all tangled across my face in the mornings, and the way you smelt after a shower, like strawberries and mint. I miss your touch, and the things you’d do to me in bed, and the way you looked naked – vulnerable, but still the most beautiful being I’d ever seen.

Sometimes I follow you. And him. When you’re together. I’ve sat behind you on the train going into the city (why were you going there?! You hate the city), and I’ve even been right behind you in the queue at Starbucks. Right behind you. And you were so wrapped up in your new life, you didn’t even notice me.

What made you leave? I wonder every day. Was it my bad dress sense? Was it my embarrassingly bad jokes? Was it because I couldn’t seem to get promoted? Was it because I bought you an iPad instead of some sort of jewellery for your birthday? Was it because you’d already met him?

Maybe I’ll never know. But I do know one thing.

If I could pluck you from his arms and make you mine again, I’d be the happiest man alive.


13 thoughts on “The One That Got Away

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