“If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me.”--W.H. Auden

I hated her for leaving me this way. I thought we were in love, but it was just me. I hate how she understands why I can’t stand the sound of her voice, but I need her to sing me to sleep. She loves someone else now, but I know she loves me too. I was gone for too long. If I’d known I was going to meet her maybe I wouldn’t have ended up here. She loved him, but not more than I. She loved me so much, and I love her too much. If I had any self respect I’d cut her off completely. Why do I need her the way I do? She doesn’t even like the same things I like. She loves those cheesy Rocky movies, there’s one too many. I hate those movies, and I hate her the same way. I hate the sight of them, but I can’t look away. I call her every day, when it's 12 am here and 8 am over there. I want to tell her to leave me alone, that I’m tired of her lies. Then again, I hate to see tears in her eyes. She deserves more than I can give her, but everything I have is hers. She said she’d be here when we’re old, when my back's thrown out and the doctor says, “I told you so."  I can’t understand why she’d leave me alone, but at the same time I do, she just wants me to come home. So every night I’ll call her, especially when she’s ill. But every night I’ll keep it to myself that I love her still.