my love for him was just like my town
small, unimportant, boring, almost nonexistent.
the only difference was my town
existed all on its own. if i was to leave, it would stay here and thrive.
if i was to leave him, however,
the love between us would disappear, forgotten by both parties.
i grew up there.
walked barefoot down the hot pavement all the way to the lake,
where i spent my afternoons,
drove ten miles down deserted roads
bordered by cornfields to get a gallon of milk from the nearest grocery store.
it wasn’t a sad life, per se.
just a lonely one.
i didn’t grow up with him
i met him in the seventh grade.
nice enough, nothing exciting.
he dated all my friends but also stuck with the story that he loved me.
i believed him, i guess, but never took him seriously.
when he finally got me to date him, two years later,
it was fun, i guess, but not very serious
at least on my end.
i left him just like i left that town.
quickly, without explanation,
going to someplace better. with better people,
there was no guilt involved in the process.
and i missed him like i missed that town.
that is to say, not at all.