Moving on is impossible

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.

I cannot.

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.