Your Name Will Never Stop Dripping from My Lips

Leave him alone. Forget him. You are better off alone. I hear a stream of advice from others, from myself, and from the media, but somehow your name is always here, in my thoughts. So many people ask about why they cannot forget their first love or their last ex. So few get the answers that they seek.

You are an essential piece of me

See, when love felt as true and innocent as it did for you and me, it is far too difficult to just let it go. You are, in so many ways, an essential piece of me. Though my heart no longer aches for you like it used to, the image of you continues to resurface in my dreams. Then when I awake in the morning, your name is the first one I speak.

The love I had for you was once a waterfall

Like a mystical spell that only partially works now that the main ingredient is gone, memories of you come back to me. Ensorcell me. But the real you that continues to exist elsewhere has moved on.

The love I had for you was once a waterfall. It cascaded from every pore, washing me from head to toe. I drank deep, and let that love flood every piece of my soul. Now that the reservoir is drying, leaving just dregs of love behind, your name continues to drip from my lips. It will probably never stop.

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I am glad this constant dripping continues

For a while, I was hard on myself. Something inside me felt like I had made some terrible faux pas. That our fall out was generated solely by something I was unaware of. Was I too desperate? Too clingy? Too naive? Every question came with but one answer. Your name.

In a way, I am glad this constant dripping continues. Call me a masochist, but every droplet is a reminder that once upon a time I knew love. I felt the need to be with someone. And in an odd way, I know that if I continue to carry this amount of love for one person, then there is no reason that I cannot love again.

Although it is unfortunate that individual will not be you, I can remind myself what went wrong with us. Then I will commit to never making those mistakes again.

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Gone is the girl who sought out only you

Gone is the girl who called out to you in her dreams, hoping you were thinking about her too. Now I know that while I cannot erase influence from my mind completely, I should learn something from it.

My mind might recall the smile on your face and my mouth might articulate to form your name once in a while, but I will merely use it to remind myself that you moved on.

Your name will never stop dripping my lips. But that does not mean I will continue pining for only you. Now your name is a motivator. One day, I will find someone else whose name is spoken more often than yours.1