Letting Go

I dreamt of you yesterday.

It was dark in our apartment. I was groggy and barely awake. I felt empty and alone. So I searched for you. Perhaps you fell asleep outside studying.

Then I found you and a sense of comfort washed over me. I walked closer and was ready to dive into your arms, this longing in my heart to hug you and lie on your solid chest and in your strong arms' embrace was so overpowering and then I stopped.

This isn't our apartment. You aren't mine anymore. I'm not your baby now. You got over me while I was away.

I was filled with dread and emptiness, and you were still sound asleep. Part of me wanted to just interact with you, hear your voice or touch you, even if you weren't real. But I couldn't. I ran back into our room. And realised that this wasn't our room. This isn't my bed. This aren't the pillows, the sheets, the blankets I left you. Where is Bommie, our penguin? Where is my fucking bolster? Who the fuck is this in the bed?????????

I woke up crying. But life goes on.

This is why I'm heading to Gold Coast before Melbourne. I'm finally better, but I can't. I can't go back to that city of dreams without any sense of familiarity. You've practically kicked me out of my apartment. You're bringing boys into the home I brought you into. And you've left me after forcing me to grow so attached to you.

I was never the sticky kind.

Why did you mould me into that just to break your promises and leave me overnight.

p/s: so yes, my last-new relationship of about one and a half years is over. come date me now. you better not be a bottom. lol