Broken Promises

I looked him up today.

I don’t know why.

I think I missed the sound of his lies.

Those very words that used to hold so much promise and hope for a future together in the East, but now they all rang hollow.   The promises, those words of relationship of maybe love, but in reality it was nothing more than lip service.

I stared at his photo today.  Long and hard, dragging out all the imperfections in his eye(s), his face, his smile.  I remember how very hard it was to keep his attention.  How I had to put myself last, behind everyone and everything, and to speak ad nauseum.

If I didn’t call daily, he’d seemingly disappear, then claim that I had gotten over him, and at some point all I wanted was to speak to him, hear his voice, note the nuances in the inflections of the timber of the sound.

I guess it makes sense that doesn’t just go away.  But by now I should be better right?  I shouldn’t crave to hear him, or to talk about the mundane workings of his day.  It’s not supposed to be a thing, especially after so many weeks of doing without.

But I missed him today.


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