I laugh about it now.
The way I wanted you so desperately.
The way I begged and pleaded, knees in snow, face to the heavens
That if I could, they’d give me you.
They, the family that I know are watching over me.
That they’d hear my plead for you and they’d give me you.
I thought things of destiny.
I thought things of quiet afternoons curled up in a library with you.
I even wrote a quite sweet story about that last time I saw you.
But now I laugh about it.
I laugh because it was so preposterous.
I didn’t know who I was
so how could I know you were the answer to my eternal question?
Because now I do know who I am
And I know that you aren’t.
A part of me wishes you’d read this.
That you’d see that you aren’t God’s gift to women.
That every woman who fawned over you is still in the throes of your “devilish good looks”.
The fact of the matter is that the majority of us have moved on
Because after the charm faded
And the wit became annoying
We realized you were just….well….you.
So I hope you read this in hopes that you’ll change
But I know that you won’t because you thing you’re great just the same.