I feel sorry for her. I truly do.

She thinks that it's only her, that I'm no longer a recurring thought in your head. How wrong she is. I know without a doubt in my mind, if I somehow appeared in your bedroom and you were guaranteed that she would never find out . . . well we both know what you'd pick. All of those I love you's and it's only you's that you tell her would be thrown away in exchange for our clothes thrown and scattered across the floor. I say this because it will never happen again, even though I'm sure you wouldn't mind if it did. The difference now is that I choose me and I no longer want you. I no longer WANT you. Why would I? Someone who is so easily able to kiss me and then immediately go home to someone else. But wait, I haven't gotten to the most horrific part yet. You are able to kiss her without the SLIGHTEST taste of regret or remorse on your lips.

How do I know that? Because you used to do that with me.