I just realized.

She never did love me.

Not in this take.

She did at one time.

She was in love with an idealized me.

Someone who was dead 20 plus years ago.

Someone who ceased to exist long, long ago.

She loved the ideal, the notion, the wishful thoughts, the memories.

She said all the right things.

She did all the right things.

She tried with all of her heart, I know.

But she never loved me today.

She loathed me.

Thought this version was weak.

Thought this version had no self-assured swagger like the old.

Thought this version lacked self-esteem and panache.

She didn’t realize that that swagger and self-esteem was youthful ignorance and bluster that was replaced with a grown-up genuine self.

She didn’t love the reality, she loved the dream.

And one day she woke up from the dream and all that love went cold.

It just died.

All that love was replaced with indifference and contempt.

She tried to deny it. Yes, she tried very hard.

But you can’t fake love. It never works.

And now she’s gone.