Friday night. You walk into a bar in the middle of town. Fingers shaking. You know he's there in the corner but you stumble straight to the bar. Your head is light; you've smoked too many cigarettes already. It's late. It's always late. You sit down at the table, you ask others individually how they are. Have you missed me? I've missed you. You avoid eye contact. You'll remember the awkward angle of your feet, the way your shoelaces are coming untied, the way your mismatched socks poke out from under your jeans - you'll remember that to the end of your days. You talk to all the men about all of their lost loves. They deserve better, you tell them. You mean it. They do. You tell Luke that he looks great. He does. He says the same to you and you ask straight out if he's still in love with her. He is. You sigh. All of this stupid conversation is a way to avoid him. Last time you saw him you took his soul and you ripped it apart with your teeth. You miss the way he'd grip your throat in the middle of the night and the comfort of it. How do you tell somebody else that it helps you sleep? Love is a series of actions that go unspoken. Love is rubbing his nose with the side of your finger. It's untying his shoelaces when he's too tired to undress himself. Love is a long silence, a five year silence. Love is how small he made you feel. Love is how you'd curse him under your breath when your back was turned. How you'd wish he'd look at you first thing in the morning instead of checking his email. Love is kissing somebody for six years and knowing exactly how it feels and never tiring of it. Love is finding him standing at another bar long after he should be gone home to his new girlfriend. Love is not allowing him a chance. Love is crying in public. It's him telling you, "I'd had a few bottles, girl" when you ask him why he'd make love to you like that when he never really meant it. Love is him telling you that you'll one day have his babies. Love is staying up with him all night, giving solidarity to the theory that his feelings were always more valid than yours. Love is an ex that never goes away. Love is your heart forever in another room.