some books should be left unopened

Sitting there alone she felt all of the memories coming back. She wasn’t sure whether to reject them with the bitter cold severity of that which they had left her, or to welcome them back for a secret rendezvous. All those times she’d pictured them together… and all those times she didn’t say what she really wanted to. And all those times he so blatantly didn’t love her the way she loved him. His haunting memory scorched her once open mind. Now she was closed off, now she was singed. Singed to the thought of ever loving someone less magnificent than him, at least what she knew of him.
Passion had turned to madness, or was it the other way around? The mention of his name could make her stomach twist like a wrung out cloth. The sight of him made her lose all ability to think, she had lost her words, she had lost the ability to speak. Why could he have never seen her inner struggle? It all went so very wrong. And now she wishes she had left those memories where they came from.

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