Heavy sleep. Alarm clock blaring. The bus I missed. The way you
looked at me when I sat down. How you liked the shirt I was wearing.
My awkward compliment on your outfit. Your number in my phone.
Paying for the first date with you. For the third. The incredible ***.
Paying for the twentieth date. Months passing. Two Anniversaries and
one ring. The apartment we bought. The bed we shared. The things we
said. The moments we had together. Overwhelmed by my feelings for
you. Wrestling in the kitchen. Quiet nights at home. Pet names. A
sense of comfort. The time that went by. The stress from your job. My
overtime at work. Not tonight dear, I have a headache. Arguing over
directions. Nothing to worry about, just a rough patch. Silence at
dinner. The big fight. The divorce papers. Your confession that you
never loved me. The hole where my heart used to be. All the alcohol I
drank. All the women I ******. Convincing myself that I’m past you.
Time at the gym. Wave to the cute girl at the bar. Get a haircut. Start a
diet. Smile at strangers. Buy a new car. Just fine, never better. See you
with him at the grocery store. My silent indignation. His hand with
yours. The tears on the way home. Grinding my teeth. I'm too good for
you anyway. The beer I consumed. The tree I drove into. The meetings
I went to. The way I hated myself. The way I hated you. The way I still
loved you. The way I knew I always would. The way I hated realizing
that. The depression. The *******. Still sleeping on the right side
of the bed. The volunteer hours I completed. The charity worker I met.
The mediocre ***. The way she said she understood me. My guard
coming down. Forgetting the way you looked. Deleting the messages I
saved. Sighing. My second marriage. The kids she had with me. The
years that melted together. Hearing you moved a while back from an
old neighbor. Long walks by myself. Everyday seeming the same.
Never feeling right. All the years I woke up

cold,

alone,

still wishing you were next to me.