Dear Lover,

I won’t waste time on formalities. You won’t read this anyway now that you’re gone. But, I hope somewhere, wherever you are, you’ll think of me sometimes. Maybe you’ll be drunk at a bar and through slurred words you’ll mess up a word and it’ll sort of sound like my name. Like the nickname you gave me before you left.

I hope you have a family. I hope you have a good job and a good life and I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted. But just don’t tell me. I would rather be left with the image of you crying in my arms than seeing the image of you dancing in the kitchen with someone else. Of you reading your kids a bedtime story, or taking them on vacation. Of you at work, enjoying your job. Enjoying your life, away from me.

I met someone with your name today. As soon as I heard the first syllable, every moment rushed through my mind and my heart began to race and I didn’t know where my feet were taking me. The body knows, though. The body brought me away from your name. Most likely not to feel this pain again.

Somewhere, still, twenty years later, I have a soft spot for people with blue eyes like yours. And somewhere, even though I run, my face gets flushed as soon as I hear your name out of anyone else’s mouth.

Forever yours,

X