An assortment of writing prompts to inspire writers.
I have written on this too much. Not as if she got away, never that. How could I admit she was gone? I know she is gone, even now with four or is it five children and a husband, but still I hold out hope. Maybe some day if it is even only when we are old and grey looking off into the distance of the horizon and our memories, side by side. I have already admitted to her that it was my fault and my mistake, but there in the future she says what I always longed to hear, that she loves me still. I am sure she has moved on, I never will. It is an exquisite pain that reminds me that I have loved.