I hope when you are meeting other girls you find pieces of me in them.
I hope when you hang out in your car while your radio plays The Smiths, you feel a pang of loneliness.
I hope that when they kiss you, you taste me.
I hope that when you take them to bed, you apologize and say, “I’m sorry, this never happens.”
I hope you are dissatisfied and you stay up all night wondering why, and it isn’t until someday, whether it takes you weeks, months, or years, to realize why none of them ever worked out.
It’s because none of them are me.
No matter how beautiful, or intelligent, or charismatic they are, it just never feels right.
No matter how hard you try, you will never truly replace what I made you feel.
How I loved you so consumingly, so passionately.
How you know deep down in your touch-starved heart, that I was the one that got away.
