The break up letter

It is another warm evening here in Victoria. Writing from my bed. My very empty bed. I am lonely. Not all the time but when I am bed, I find that the loneliness hits the hardest here. Here is where his touch still echos in my body and I can still feel him when I curl up on my side. I can still hear his breathing and feel safe in his arms. I wonder what those arms would feel like if they were wrapped around me now? If I would ever feel safe there again?

I wrote him a letter yesterday. A heartbreaking, bare it all letter complete with tear stains on the page. I have it in an envelope along with two other letters I have written in the progression of our break up. In an enveloped addressed to him with a stamp. All I need to do is stick it in a mailbox and then I open up the dialogue.

I am not sure if I really want to hear back from him though. I mean part of me desperately wants to hear his voice, hear him say everything is OK. But I don't think I have the ability to believe him anymore. And who knows what he would say really? In the end he could say something even more damaging to me. I mean he has proven that hurting me means nothing to him. That is inconsequential. How did I ever become inconsequential?