Friday night life.

Why can't you see what you've done? I broke, and you let my pieces scatter into the whirlwind of you. I gave you all that I had—every part of myself. You may have loved me once, but I was replaced by dancers and drinks. I took care of home, the kids, and everything in between except me. You took care of you. The only way that you knew how to connect was with sex.

Consensual or otherwise.

Broken trust with a touch. Sleeping in layers in the middle of the summer. You took care of you. The constant monologue in my head. I deserved it. I was never good enough for real love. You couldn't stand to look at me; of course, that's what you turned to. You could have cheated, right? I guess that's the silver lining in this story.

You don't get a silver lining though. I left you behind. Although my wounds are still healing, you still have a few of my pieces. I will never be free of you. Flashbacks happen more often than I like to admit. I push past them, plastering a smile on my face. They need me. She needs me. Someday I won't grit my teeth at a touch in the night. I won't forgive you. I won't forget either. One day, you just won't hold any pieces that matter. They'll choose me. I was there; you weren't. You didn't want to be, and they see that. They won't see me finding something better to do. Fuck you and your Friday night life. You'll never touch me again.

Consensual or otherwise.