From the very start. I wasn’t yours you weren’t mine. Fwb don’t last, you either end up together or you don’t and we were both very clear on our stance of not wanting a relationship. Our “time together” was hollow and transitory, temporary. It would come and go with colors of the leaves. I told myself over and over, walked myself through the possibilities. I knew we’d never work together, but I’d begun to get these nonsensical peculiar aches.

I noticed you were treating me differently months ago, I never said anything. I couldn’t, what could I possibly ask of you? Didn’t want to come off clingy or like I was trying to make you mine. I’ve been a mess, and I was afraid of hearing all I’d done to make myself so undesirable. Perhaps a ploy to keep up a pointless delusion. I was just a warm body to fill a space, a soft home for your second head. I could tell my time as your temporary muse was running out. Statements about a hoe phase, increasing periods of silence, repeated phone calls going to voicemail, the increasing frequency of our interactions taking place while you were intoxicated, finding an earring in your room that wasn’t mine. And now, subtweets longing for someone that couldn’t be me. I didn’t want it to be, I can’t understand why it still stings.

I’m bewildered as to why I’m so drawn to you. Perhaps you’re everything I wish I could be to some degree. Or maybe because you’re the first person I’ve felt safe with in years to be able to successfully engage in that kind of intimacy with. You were so good to me in the beginning, maybe the aches are the shame of being the kind of wretched mess that could sully something so valuable. Maybe none of this had anything to do with me and I was just a placeholder, who could I be upset with regardless? Where do I cast the blame if not myself? You never owed me anything, we never really were a “we.” I’ve never been able to do this sort of thing for exactly this reason and now I’m helplessly attached to you, never one to tangle bodies without feelings wrapping themselves around limbs and organs. Melodramatic as it sounds I caused my own heartache. I’m happy and proud for your newfound sobriety, but something deep down and distant aches with the realization of the possibility that she’s the cause. You want to speak with her sober, you’d only find me drunk and gone. I don’t want to know what you think of me, I just wish I could turn this off.