tumblinas.

day2

First tears of the day at 05.55. I’m doing better, I’d been awake for 15 mins.

I was looking at the wall, at the pink fairy lights he had brought for me, and realised

I’d have to pack those too.

The room’s a shell, full of traces of him, of us, of smiles and love.

My love.

He cared.

He loved me like he loves his parents

Not like a girlfriend.

and I’m not precious enough to want to hold onto

But he’s very grateful.

I watch him leave faster than he had moved in

Still, none of that crushes that fucking seed of hope

that has taken root in the hole that he has left.

It’s 06.15. More tears.

I woke up crying this morning.

Last night he told me he didnt love me.

I was a wonderful woman and he was grateful for all I had done for him.

I was so happy to hear that it wasnt me,  it was him, that this morning I woke up crying.

So now I’m standing watching him pack my memories of him into boxes,

he tells me he doesnt want me, need me or love me, he hasn’t fancied me for quite some time,

I feel stupid for not realising this, for thinking the intimacies we recently shared meant something more

not less.

And I wish I wasnt the punchline, to a joke he’d been mulling over,

I wish I hadn’t let him tell me that I wasn’t special enough to hold on to.

I wish I didnt see the laugh in his step as he packed his things in the car to leave.

I wish

I wasnt me.

I don’t miss him.  The ‘him’  never really existed.  So, no I don’t miss ‘him’.

He ruined it.

I’m happy we’re friends.  I don’t see how it could ever be more, with the ending we had.

He just doesn’t look the same to me.

If it’s ever right, there won’t be any guess work.  You’ll just know.  I hope.  Sometimes,  I’m terrified of being one of those people that talk themselves out of what could have been a defining moment..