"Do you still love me?"

I hear myself say those words over and over again. Like a record player that was stuck on its plate.

Silence.

There was complete and utter silence.

"Do you still love me?"

It came out smaller than when i had asked him the first time.

"Do...you?"

His facial expression was the answer that I needed. It was cold. So cold that I had thought it was the start of winter and that summer had only lasted three weeks. My body felt hollow like a tunnel.

The suitcase started to fill up rapidly as he scrammed to gather as much of his belongings as possible. My belongings. 

Everything he threw into that gray box was another memory being shut away. "I'm taking the spare key. I'll come back for the rest of my things tomorrow."

The rest of his things tomorrow.....tomorrow...

His things? None of the stuff he owns is even his. Every peice of furniture, plate, pots, plant, shirt, jeans, sweater in this god damn apartment was bought by me. Who does he think he is walking back here acting like he owns ?

That was when my misery turned into anger. 

I was furious. Furious for him deceiving me all of these years. For the thought that he may actually love me. God did he ever love me? I left a whole life behind just to be with him and now he thinks he can walk away without any consequences?

What's mine is mine. And call me ing insane but he's still mine. 

And once you're mine. You won't ever be anyon