And she still wears my ring, and I still bare my scars.

He left you alone on your doorstep crying, much like you left me hanging on the reciever that cold faitful night in November.
Three years gone, but these abandoned feelings and memories which I attempted to bury under a facade of strength come flooding back as you approach me, plastic cup in hand. That trademark smile melts away my hardened exterior as a familiar fragrance haunts my nostrils. A feeling I have longed to feel has returned, yet I cannot decide if it is pain, acceptance, denial, or happiness.
Is this how fate works? Should this conversation come so easily after all the words we slaughtered each other with were exchanged? My mind wanders to the ends of the galaxy and back at break neck speeds.
We have both travelled so far and come a long way in these dreadfully long months past, just to end up here. Standing in a populated back yard under the same stars which we have gazed upon together countless times before. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel at home. I feel safe and secure in the field of your vision, a place I have not graced in far too long.
Is this how fate works, taunting me with broken hearts and lost words?
This could be a healthy start or a tragic ending. Fate dont break me now, I beg of you.