Dear Misters

I had an awful day. Last day of spring break, you were disappointing.

value motel

I'm not that girl who wants to go camping.
I'm not that girl who wants to be your friendly friend.
I'm not gorgeous in the morning.
I'm not well read.
I'm not into your band.
I'm not into your car.
I'm not into your bike.
Three years after breaking up with you, I don't want you back.
Three months after dating you, I needed more than you give.
I don't have money to spend on lavish dinners.
I don't have money to spend at the bar.
I'm not the other girl.
I'm not cool enough to meet your friends.
I don't dress head to toe in your favorite indie label.

But I love falling asleep in your t-shirt, kissing your shoulders, listening to the rain trickle down your windows. I loved taking care of you and your house. I loved sitting in the park with you and naming our children. Holding your hand while hiking is worth the balancing act. I loved stopping the elevator to sneak in a quick cuddle. I love scratching your back until my arms got tired, although touching you could never be tiring. I love the kisses you give me on my forehead. I love the kisses you give my wrists. I love that our trip to the art museum as full of affection. I love sneaking eskimo kisses in the halls of school. I love the way we share shy looks at the copy machine.

I really love the thought of really loving. You were not him. You are not him. You cannot be him.