I lost you. I am not significant to you. You might even say I never had you at all. I am just a pigment of light inside your castle. That is it. I won’t deny it.
I had you for a short time, long ago, but it is not you I miss. I refuse to say that I miss the “idea” of you. My explanation is more complex than that. I do miss more than the idea of you. I miss talking about literature and politics over black coffee with you. I miss outsmarting you in music theory, and you outsmarting me in history. I miss holding your hand.
Yet, I accept I will never have you again. My heart holds onto hope, but logic knocks me back into reality. That is how it’s supposed to be. If I had you, I’d be another person; I wouldn’t be the person, let alone writer, I am today if you never left. Those who get what they want don’t have it as difficult as those that don’t get what they want.
Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for not giving me what I wanted. Thank you for choosing another girl over me. Thank you for leaving me.