Mailboxes

So it's really over this time. There's not much to say.  There's nothing to figure out.  The envelope is sealed.  I dropped you off into the mailbox and walked away.  You'll sit there with all the other mail I've given up.  You'll be about your life.  All I'll have of you are the memories that are tucked and contained in the confines of an envelope.  There are things I'll miss. There are things I'll regret and lose sleep over.  Ill wonder how your sleeping and if you've been happy.  I'll close my eyes and imagine your face.  But I'll end each thought with how you care more about yourself than me and how your words didn't have meaning.  I'll remember how I felt when you'd leave me and never look back.  When relationships end I feel my chest tighten and I wonder if I could feel as strongly for anyone else.  I feel jealous of all the other girls that will be with you.   I worry about how this disappointment will affect future relationships.  You may forget about me.  You might see me and feel nothing.  I'll have to accept that, and accept that for whatever reason you didn't want me.  I will have to adjust once again, setting my mind on myself.  I'll be trying to sort through all the things I was probably running from when I met you.  Here again I am alone.  I'm just walking, no mail in my hand, no hand to hold.