When I Reminisce Over You... in Him

…it should just stay reminiscing…

You are greedy and selfish and I see that now.

Here I told you I missed you too, but the more you talk the more I realize that you only miss being in my bed.

We’ve always been…uneven.

I miss the whole of you.
You miss the hole of me.

That’s uneven. I don’t know maybe you think it’s nothing to cheat when you’re married. I think it’s everything.

I guess, perhaps, you have to make it superficial. To give totally, to tell me what you’re feeling, puts your marriage in perspective for you. Something has to be amiss because why on earth are you entertaining me, telling me you miss me, dreaming of me on top of you, in your current state of marriage?

Then again, you’ve always been greedy.
Then again, I’ve always speculated.

It just has never been my…place?… to say much to you about how I feel until I burst.

Only when I let you go did you say perhaps you hadn’t shown me enough. It’s not that you didn’t show me, but you balanced the two of us since we were in separate parts of the country. You knew how I felt. No man can ever say they don’t know how I feel because I. Tell. Them. What they do with what I tell them is the part that gets lost be they don’t care or brush it off.

And here we are again. Me contemplating an email to tell you how I don’t want to be that woman that can’t let go and I don’t want to be a secret. I don’t deserve that. An email saying how unfair it is for you to shroud the fact that you just want to touch me like before in playfulness like we use to do. As the realization hit me from our recent conversation (in which I was trying to watch a movie with my son and wanted to do that more than to hear you talk about giving me “the dick” in the past) that’s all I am to you right now. Something for you to stroke your dick to, in, for.

I’m more than that. I deserve better than that. My heartbreaks and tears well up because once again, I’m not enough, or rather, I’m nothing to you but a sex machine. Yeah. It’s good. I figured, but that’s all I am to you. Good p*ssy.

I pass on this whole thing. I can’t keep letting you make me cry.