If I’m being honest
I don’t miss him like I thought I would.

If I’m being honest
I missed myself more—
now that I’m by myself.

If I’m being honest
the thought of him leaving
was more painful than him actually being gone.

If I’m being honest
he was starting to take more from my life than give.
He couldn’t protect me.
He couldn’t provide for me.
Or maybe he just wouldn’t.

If I’m being honest
his company had grown stale.
It wasn’t fresh, fun, or new.
It wasn’t exciting, invigorating, or inspiring.
It was the same old, same old.

If I’m being honest
I conquered him—
the one person I thought I couldn’t.
He let me conquer him,
because he wasn’t strong enough to withstand being conquered.

If I’m being honest
he became indulgent.
He wanted to use me—
for my touch, my company, my energy.
He felt guilty about not being able to give the same.
He felt the pressure.
It was building.
So he left.

If I’m being honest
I don’t know if I want him back.
I’ve adapted without him pretty well—
and it’s only been three days.

If I’m being honest
it’s time to get back to me.
And only me.