Letters to Lovers

I’ve been writing all these things down that I think of you on my iPhone; these sad moments where I wake up from dreams about you only to realize they haven’t come true and you’re a million miles away and my life is just the same as it has alway been. I wake up and write down all the things that I feel hoping it will be some sort of therapy. It’s not; it’s sad. I come back and see them two months later and I see all the desperate words willing you to love me, like me, or even just fuck me. I have none if these things from you; I hardly have your attention at all. I’m not used to chasing and I hate that I still do three years later. A simple compliment from you keeps me elevated for days, but I don’t know why when I know the reality of the situation is that is the last time I will talk to you in person for at least 6 months. The next time I see you I will be the same and you will be closer to being “grown up” with your house, car, guns and child. If only your child knew you thought of running away with me before she was born. If only I had the heart to remind you that once upon a time you said I make you feel special.