begins
now,
she tells me in a long white
letter
left on my pillow.
we are done.
finished.
what was will never be again.
the love
i once had for
you
i no longer have. we're
different
people than who we thought
we were
in the beginning, five
years ago.
so my life without you
begins now,
by the way, i have
some of your things, so i'll
stop by
tomorrow
to drop them off
and perhaps we can talk.
i still have your
mother's ring, your key
and your
dog.
there's also a pot roast
i made
for you on the stove.
just set the temp for 350
and warm it up for twenty
minutes or so.
there's a salad in the fridge.
but remember, my life
without you
begins now.
i'll come by at noon.
let me know if you need anything
at the store.

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