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  • My love is not yours

    fishnet-bra-frill2.jpgThe Ex, one.

    When I wake up in the mornings, you may not be there. (these are my thoughts in retrospect)

    That's because I know you'll be gone from my life soon; I just didn't want to admit it then, but I have no choice but to tell myself now that that was the truth of it.

    I knew you would never become my wife. And I think that I will be right...eventually.

    For you are still in my thoughts sometimes, even if for mundane reasons. It's not just the black lingerie you wore, or the camisole I bought for you, or the smiles and kisses and conversations we shared, or the barbed remarks that made us both angry and detest each other sometimes. It was also the sense of implicit belonging we had with one another. But that, in the end, was not to be.

    Still, I could never forget you, even if I tried.

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    The Ex, two.

    There was a time when I thought I'd be happy. With you. But it seems we were mistaken, both in intent and in gesture.

    I guess we found in each other some measure of solace for a while, both hiding away from the world they call the 'real', and denying our

    respective, idiosyncratic insecurities.

    But it was in so denying that we made mistakes. We were such a lethal, combustible combination. One hot, one cold - not just moments, but our behaviour towards one another.

    Our time together was relatively brief, but explosive; full of fireworks, and not necessarily in a good way. We owe it to each other to make apologies; it was a pity that we didn't.

    I don't think I could do it now, even if I really tried.

    In the end, I can only wish you happiness, and all the best things for your life.

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    The one that was never meant to be

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    I'm not sure what initially attracted me to you. Could it have been your large eyes, pert nose, or insane laughter? Or a mixture of all of these elements?

    These elements were in themselves dangerous. Like water and electricity, like hydrogen gas and air with heat or sunlight. None of them were planned; all were spontaneous.

    Reaching for you was like reaching for the impossible stars. I didn't understand the physics at work; the dynamics of lust and like, of power between a man and a woman, were just too difficult, and obscure, for me to comprehend.

    And when I seemed to find you back on Earth - in my eagerness to be near you - I burnt up on re-entry.

    I know I'll never find you again. Which is just as well.

    I never loved you, I know that now, and I never will.