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We were friends before we were lovers. Boyfriend and girlfriend before we agreed to marry. Or did we agree? I'm not sure. For 4 years we existed. We laughed, drank, cared and made friends. Cried, argued, planned and forgave. It was done after 3. We both knew that. Neither wanted to accept. Secret tears, thoughts, conversations. Trips to furniture shops that were fraught with tension and dis-attachment.  I decided it had ended before it had. Then fought tooth and nail to get it back. It was never coming back. 

You were my saviour. You made me laugh more than anyone else. You were my friend. My good friend. But I think you wanted me more than I needed you. There were so many late nights. So much fun. So much disregard for responsibility. So much what I needed. But we were in different places. Eventually I wanted to go to Ikea. You wanted to keep drinking. I wanted someone to take the pain of the last break-up away. You wanted me to love you like I had loved before. I did love you. But we weren't going to make it.

You were a mystery. A romance that no-one understood. You made me feel like I could do anything I wanted to do. Be anyone I wanted to be. The bright lights and insanity of Los Angeles coupled with that sexual chemistry made me drunk. Giddy and unrealistic. Lots of friends will say you never cared.

But I was there.

 I know.

Then there was you. You gave me the most amazing thing I have ever had. You held my hand through the pain. Kissed my lips through the tears. Held me tight when I didn't deserve it. 

We've got the most special connection in the world.

And you are here.

And you know.