She

It's not fair, how easily you can move on. She knows not my name and not what we were, what we had and what we could have had. I carry the burden every day. In this woman - and I am sure she is lovely - you find a new beginning. In every man I find hesitation, my demon and my fear-of disappointment,  of abandonment and of of rejection. You speak of your past loves in phrases of "she cheated" and "she left me" but never speak the words "she loved me" or "she was good to me".  She will never know of me. I am a skeleton in your closet, a woman swept under the rug because you cannot admit to what we had and what we had done. I will never be a story you tell, a memory you cherish. I am the old movie you play to yourself at night when you can't sleep. If even that. You are proud to be next to her, perhaps in a way you never were with me. It is easy to.love an illusion, to love who you can be with someone else. I venture the guess you love yourself with her more than you love her. But who am I to speculate. You broke me down when you broke my heart, I questioned my strengths as faults and fell deeper into myself. Perhaps my realness was too much, or perhaps I choose to tell this to myself. You may have left me, but you will never forget me.