The Geography of Regret

I fucked up.

Every kiss, every touch,

every reckless laugh we shared—

all of it gone,

because I thought

sacrificing you would save me.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

They didn’t love me more.

They didn’t love me at all.

Riley.

Your name feels like a bruise I press too hard,

aching just to feel alive.

Your memory is a map I keep retracing,

trying to find the exit

from the place I left you behind.

Your face is burned into my head.

Your lips—God, those lips—

kissed me like I was worth saving,

like you could pull me back from the edge.

Your body was fire.

Not candlelight. Not a spark.

A fucking wildfire.

And for the first time, I felt alive.

Like I was worth touching.

We didn’t do limits.

There were no rules, no hesitation.

You sucked me.

I ate you out.

I fingered you open,

and you rode me like you’d never get enough.

Missionary, doggy style,

my cock inside you,

and you loved it—

loved when I filled you,

gave you every drop I had.

We’d stay naked,

cuddled on the ground,

your body pressed against mine,

breathing like the world outside didn’t exist.

And in those moments,

it didn’t.

You made me feel free.

Seen.

Fucking invincible.

And I still pushed you away.

I told myself it was for them—

for the husband who was my past

and his boyfriend who was my maybe-future.

I thought giving you up

would make them love me more.

But guess what?

They didn’t.

They fucking didn’t.

Instead, I watched their love bloom

like a punchline to the worst joke,

their laughter echoing in a house

that doesn’t even feel like mine anymore.

And now, every time

“Wherever You Are” plays,

I see you.

Kesha sings:

“When I miss you, I play that song.”

And I do.

Over and over,

because it’s the only way I can hear your voice.

She says:

“I’ll never be the same if we ever meet again.”

And fuck, I know she’s right.

Because if I ever saw you,

if I ever had the chance to touch you again,

I’d fall apart.

Last night, I tried to forget.

Kai was beautiful.

He laughed like nothing mattered,

like no one was watching,

and I wanted to lose myself in him.

We fucked in his car—

reckless, messy, loud.

For a minute, I thought it worked.

For a minute, I thought I was free.

But this morning?

You’re still here, Riley.

You’re in my head,

your fire burning under my skin.

Kai was fun,

but you were everything.

Kai was a spark.

You were a wildfire.

I hate them for this.

The husband who called me “too much.”

The boyfriend who moved into my house

and took everything.

I hate the way they broke me,

the way they made me believe

I wasn’t worth loving.

But more than them,

I hate me.

I hate that I believed

they deserved more than you.

I hate that I sacrificed you

for a love that was already dead.

If I could take it back,

if I could go back to the moment

I let you walk away,

I’d run to you.

I’d tear every lie apart

and beg you to take me back.

But I can’t.

So now I live with it.

The way you laughed,

the way you cursed,

the way you fucked me

like nothing else mattered.

And maybe one day,

I’ll find a place

where your shadow doesn’t follow me,

where the air doesn’t smell like your memory.

Maybe I’ll wake up

and the sunlight won’t feel so heavy.

Maybe I’ll look in the mirror,

see myself,

and not flinch.

The scars might fade.

The regrets might quiet.

And maybe, just maybe,

I’ll let someone else in.

But I’ll never forget you.

You’re seared into my soul,

a brand I can’t erase.

Even if I find someone new—

even if I let myself love again—

you’ll always be there.

A memory I can’t touch,

a regret I can’t undo.

Because Riley,

you were the geography of freedom,

of fire, of life.

And I gave it all away

for nothing.