The Worst Part

I still love him.

And that's the worst part.

I still love the way he smells.
I still love the way he smiles.
I still love the way his goofy laugh lit up my day.
I still love the way he kissed my nose.
I still love his over-sized sweatshirt.
I still love the way he pulled me closer as we hugged longer.
I still love his bushy hair.
I still love the way he tickled me.
I still love his passion for the Lord.
I still love the way he wiped away my tears that fateful night.
I still love his beat up car with its terrible turning radius.
I still love the way he got mild road rage at idiot drivers
I still love his text messages.
I still love our song.
I still love every picture of us together.
I still love how he can possibly love grapefruit juice.
I still love those 20 minutes of excitement on the way to his house.
I still love his silly dances.
I still love his little laugh he did when he was content.
I still love how he held me and we watched tv together.
I still love the way he gave me goosebumps.
I still love his love of history.
I still love his family.
I still love everything he taught me.

I still love him.

And that's the worst part.