Remember how you refused to tell me to go? How you left puzzle pieces and dead-end mazes and riddles, all leading to a different part of what could have been a sweet, honest, gentle “I don’t want you.”
Remember how you came back? Twice?
Remember how I sent you away each time?
It’s true that I’m always right.
I know that you loved me, just as much as I loved you. I know that you thought yourself “too cool” for love. Too cool for faithfulness, for commitment, for eternity.
I’m so glad that you miss me.
I’m so glad that it doesn’t matter to me.