A Letter From You Old Lover

The Other Women

But this girl named Clementine Vickens; In my defense I would say she is the other woman, but the more I think about it the less I think she is, and the more I am the other woman. I tried to be more feminine and less me I guess, just to win his love or heart, something of his, that was once mine to have, to hold, and to cherish. But now it’s all gone, so gone. I crave that feeling, that sensation, that high I felt when we were together, touched, talked, something. When we ran through the tall grass by the pond, we found past a grown-up golden weeping willow tree. So that he could now take her there too. The picnic basket we would carry all the food I put my love into, that he took and gave to her as a gift, for her to do the same as me. And the valentine gifts, and just surprises he gave me were all fake. He gave me those gifts because he needed to fill that hole in his heart, the loneliness he felt. And once I filled it till it was no longer broken and unstable. He found his true desires in her and gave her one that was unconditional, loving, pure, and stable. He no longer needed me to be there for him, to fill that void that hole in his heart. And it hurts to see them happily running wild and free in our spot, my forest, only I can't say anything because I know how my heart filled with love running free with him.