You used to love me, I know it’s true. I have all the emails, the birthday cards, the book with the inscription. The book you bought for me. I could prove it beyond doubt in a court of law. I threw nothing away, deleted nothing. You used to love me and I have the evidence.
You can ignore me all you want these days, block my calls, return my letters, it doesn’t mean a thing. Not one thing. You used to love me.
So you found someone better than me, someone more responsible, someone more successful. More stable. I can’t say I blame you. I was never good enough for you, it was bound to happen in the end. But even so, you used to love me.
And that means the world.
This will be the last time I write anything for you. You have moved on, left me behind. You used to love me. A long time ago. I wonder if you even remember that. Or think of me.
I hope not. I hope you are happy, content, satisfied with the life you chose.
You used to love me.
And that’s enough.
That’s quite beautiful