Scar

I have a scar on my heart.

Four years ago I fell in love. He made me fall in love with him. He wrote me a poem about our first date as he flew home from visiting me. He was sweet and gentle with me, yet a strong and confident man. Though our relationship was long distance, we prayed together every night on the phone.

He fell in love with me first. When I was sick, he called to comfort me. He told me he wished he could take care of me. And before he hung up he said he loved me. I wanted to say it, too, but in person, looking into his eyes. I told him I wanted to say it, too, but in person when he came back again in a few weeks.

He never came back. At first it was reasonable excuses. Then it was silence. And a broken heart.

Then a few years later he popped up in social media. We chatted. I put together puzzle pieces about him and he broke my heart again at the things I came to realize about him. I never should have loved him. But I did.

And it left a scar. His promises to call and to visit that went unfulfilled. And now whenever a guy promises to call or visit and then is late or unable to, it tears at that wound and I feel the raw ache again.

It hurts.

It's not his issue. It's mine to deal with.

Some day I hope that there's a man who will not reopen that wound.