I broke up with him over skype at 2 am, right after he asked me if I would move in with him. We were three hundred and seventy three miles apart. I did not know his middle name or if he liked middle school. When he came to visit me, he did not care where I grew up and the memories linked to places in my town, he only cared about where he could place his hands, where he could place his tongue and I wanted love so badly. And when I broke up with him, it was because I had given too much of myself away to someone who would never look at me like I was masterpiece, like I was sunset, like I was Colosseum, like I was beautiful. And he told everyone I broke his heart. And he told everyone he wanted to die. And here I am, months later, still trying to find ways not to blame myself, because I broke someone and there is no going back.