Letter to My Future Ex – Matthew Ciazza

I kept forgetting you aren’t the one who likes Diet Coke.
You don’t love 2000s horror. You didn’t tell me about watching movies with your dad while we drove to San Diego for the second time.
You and I didn’t fictionalize a backstory about the crazy woman on my block. We didn’t name her Melissa.
You weren’t there when I threw up at the bar on my first day of Wellbutrin, you didn’t stroke my arm and you didn’t order an Uber for me.
I forget you aren’t the one I’d write with. And it’s not your poetry I’d listen to. You didn’t take me to your favorite places. Not in the same way at least.
You didn’t hurt me or leave a mark, and for that I’m sorry.