When

September 29, 2011

When someone asked me where we’d be yesterday I certainly thought I’d be dancing to some music you’d play after a light dinner date and getting naked slowly to the music while you laid in bed with eager eyes.

I would’ve gotten you something cool and something meaningful, like a painting I did but also a nice nice jacket or shirts, something you could’ve used for a Christmas gathering with your family and for a crazy New Years party or maybe something more like a new vintage table for your new place.

I would’ve worn my dress that you got me and know so well and love so much.

We would’ve made out so much and probably I would’ve cried thinking how humbling it is to me to love someone so hard and to feel so safe in his arms because he loves me back and you would’ve called me “my baby girl.” and it would all be so warm and nice and safe and real.

I miss you so goddamn much and don’t know where you are anymore or why this person who looks like you kidnapped you. Where’s my little lamb, my baby boy, my pie pie. My person. Are you there? I keep asking to the nothing, the sidewalks, my pillow, my mirror, my coffee, my hands. I keep asking and there’s no answer. I am like a dog waiting for it’s owner to come back but the owner is dead and the ghost is kicking me in my cold sad dog nose.

All broken. We spend it [our anniversary] without communicating except for angry texts and awkward live interaction, for jealousy, sadness and anger. What are we supposed to do with that? Alien.

You looked like mine but you weren’t. You aren’t. I still have to repeat that to myself all the time. I repeat that I hate you and have been mad at you I repeat that if you loved me you’d act as such and if you wanted me you’d act as such.

I still can’t believe you and it takes so much of my day to convince myself!!!

I hate you, your decision and your heart.

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