p.s. two…

{image credit Debby Hudson}

It took 9 years, past our divorce, for me to face that you were the love of my life. Maybe we just weren’t good together. I don’t know. When it seemed like you not only stopped loving me, and touching me, but also liking me- I didn’t know what to do.

I couldn’t put words to the feeling, for so long, but today I can:

Imagine living, while your heart beat far outside your body.

Maybe I heard that in a lyric, or a movie somewhere. It sounds way to profound to come from me. Perhaps I watched it, on the tv one night, and thought “yes, that is it! That is how I feel. That is what it was like.”

But then I would have turned to the total absence of anyone, and realized that even though I knew- I had lost.

I had lost you.

What was it, about me, that you could no longer love? Was it that I wasn’t younger?

I kissed a colleague, and you left me. Unwilling to work it out. His kiss, though electric and exciting, hadn’t ever felt like home.

Like you.

My entire self was reaching, somehow, for you, but though your body was sleeping beside me, you’d never been farther from my reach.

I tried to tell you those things, but you were so walled up from hearing the words I spoke, that you couldn’t hear me.

My love, you are remarried now, and finally a father. This is something I could not give you, and because of your new wife’s ability to, I will forever believe in the worthlessness of me.

I am working on it. Working through accepting. I’ve always been better with numbers than words, and the math is that I couldn’t grow our family, you pulled away and shut me out. You looked for me to mess up, and when I did, you tossed me out. You replaced me with a non-faulty woman, and in the end got everything you’d always wanted.

I guess what you had wanted was a family and a wife who could give you that. That had never been me.

You will forever be the love of my life, but I have long since set you free.

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