I don't own things.
I read the emails, I check the phone history.
I fall asleep alone, joined by you at 3 in the morning.
You slip into bed, unaware that I'm awake.
You smell like Grand Marnier and motels.
Try not to spend all of our money when you buy him that cologne he's wanted for months.
I wake up and you're gone.
I call you and there is a voice in the background.
I've met your coworker. I've met Ranulf.
I know he's the other man.
But it's not his fault. It's yours.
Because I can hear your lying voice through the speaker.
I can hear it break like glass.
I see you sneak around. You're small and pitiful.
You probably feel slightly guilty. But don't.
I don't want your pity. You did this to me.
Crying in my birthday cake. You aren't back.
You leave me a message. Working late.
Working.
I can see right through you.
You're transparent and weak.
You aren't the man I fell in love with.
So I pull the covers over my head, and will myself to sleep.
I'm not even safe from you in my dreams. Our cheap encounters are replayed in my mind.
I hear the door click open.
Tears well up.
You're the thing that goes bump in the night.
I hope you burn, Ike.
Why do I still need you?
You can go ahead and get one more cocktail next time. I don't like it when you're home anymore.
Because you remind me that you're destroying me.
Yikes? Poor Soren. Inspired by my friend's cheating boyfriend. ...What a cool guy.