Over half a year.
The modern world says I should have moved on. I should be ecstatic to be single and enthusiastically embracing my new life.
Every time I hear your name, every time I see your picture, the tears begin anew.
I cry for the loss of the future we could have had.
I cry out of possessiveness at the thought you are no longer anything to do with me and I have no right to be proud.
I cry out of anger that you chose to walk away.
I cry from the humiliation of rejection, of not being good enough for you.
I cry because I’ve lost a friend.
I cry for the loneliness of a double bed which I’m too small to fill by myself.
I cry out of jealousy for everyone you will now flirt with and date.
And I simply cry because your absence causes a pain which can’t be dulled.
I need a hug.
But you’re not there to provide it.