Every day feels like a Monday lately. I had a beautiful life before you. I still do. But I made you such a huge part of this. And I guess you’re used to finding a new woman to be your wife every few months. But I used to count down my days till they’d get to you. And my days are occupied. I work, I read, I walk in the sun. I cook, I bathe, I meet people. My days are full. I miss when they were full of you. I miss waking up next to you — first just to make love. Then hold each other tighter. Wake up for a second time. Get breakfast, do nothing — or a lot, together all day. Feed each other, make love, watch things, hold hands, walk, take a drag. We were lovers, real lovers. Go see our friends, come back to the bed we used to share, a little drunk, make love. Hold each other. Fall asleep. You left. You left me alone in this bed and I still eat and walk around and watch things and meet our friends. I guess I can’t hold you anymore. I can’t make love anymore. If I’m honest, no one but you has the right to love me all night long. I have a lot to do with life. And I’ll do it. On to better things. I miss you. In the mundane. I didn’t want to be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanted to be part of your family. Thank you though, for loving me for however long you could. It was sweet. A little too much so. Sickeningly so. I never said I love you every time we cut a call. So many great professions made by you in vain. It’s not even that I wish you’d thought this through, I just wish I hadn’t met you. You make people fall in love because you promise more than you can deliver. I was willing to love the real you. The one who couldn’t show up everyday. The one who needed time and care and was confused. All I can say now is take care. I hope the next time I feel love, my heart feels safe.
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