*****

I haven't seen you for a month, and I'm starting to forget your eyes, the way you used to look at me like I was beautiful when I knew I wasn't. I'm starting to forget the touch of your hand in mine, the way we just fit together, like pieces of a puzzle.

I haven't felt the touch of your lips against mine in 3 months, and I'm starting to forget the way it felt. I'm starting to forget the way we would make each other feel, the uncontrollable passion between us. And I don't want to forget it. I don't want you to forget the way I would moan when you licked the sensitive part of my ear, and I don't want you to forget the way my hand felt on your thigh, inching its way up, promises of something bigger. I don't want you to forget the way we knew each other's bodies almost better than our own. If you can forget that, you're a better person than me.

Right now, we think of different people when the sun hits our face in the morning and we rise to start our day. We think of different people when the moon is in the sky and we turn on our side to let sleep envelope us in its warm midst. I think of you, the way you used to hold me, the way you used to make me feel. You think of her, how she used to make you happy and now only makes you sad. I think of how the miles seperate us, but my love for you keeps me closer. Everytime I drift away, I think of you, and the way you used to kiss my forehead, and I drift back. But then I think of you kissing her forehead, and whispering in her ear, making her moan, and I drift away again.

But I know a secret. I know that these feelings don't last. I know that someday you'll figure out that she's not me. You'll figure out that she doesn't know how to make tacos the way you like them, and she doesn't know hot to cut the vegetables the way you like them to be cut. You'll figure out that she will never be as nurturing as I am, as loyal and loving and in awe of you as I ever was. You'll figure out that she doesn't reach out to you to the way I did, and someday, you'll figure out that she just doesn't make you happy as I did. I know it's hard for you to see that now, your eyes as clouded with newfound lust and appreciation for someone new, but someday someone new will get old, and you'll find yourself wishing that she was me.

And by the time you realize that, I will have forgotten the way you used to look at me like I was beautiful when I knew I wasn't. I will have forgotten the touch of your hand in mine, the way we just fit together, like a puzzle. I will realize that I don't need you, that I only need my self and my own confidence, because I was left here while you decided to find someone else.

Until then, here we are. And there we were. And that's all we'll be. Frozen in time for others to see, like pages in a photo album. Stuck in a void that never meant to exist, but now it does, and that's what is. And that's all it will be.