Hey there, lover of mine.

I guess its time for us to say goodbye—I mean, really goodbye.

This time I’ll be strong enough not to come crawling back, blinded by insecurities and short-term highs.

I’ll hold my self-worth up above where it belongs, and I’ll learn to stay away.

It’s not that I hate you, despise you or really even care enough to harbor any negative feelings towards what our reality has become. In fact, I think you’re magnificent. I can see your truth and know that you are a king—a king plagued with layers upon layers of self-doubt and self-loathing. It’s unfortunate that our paths crossed with you in this weakened state, for although I wish to bring you up to the place I know you belong, kings suffer on their own accord.

Lover of mine, I’ve realized that we are capable of passionate and mind-blowing sex…sex that makes my thighs quiver and my breath quicken. This intimacy we share draws me in and warms my being to its very core.

I like to be wrapped around your body.

I like it when you’re gentle with me.

Although as our encounters have progressed, there have been times I’ve felt underappreciated by you. Not only in an emotional sense—physically I was left unsatisfied and expecting more. As though we were disconnected, separated by more than just the boundaries of our skin. Granted, this is only casual sex, so is it to much to ask to feel something, anything?

What does it take to re-ignite our once-raging chemistry? Are we both withdrawing in fear—fear that, perhaps, our physical aptitudes will overcome our rational sides and, heaven forbid, we would allow feelings to develop?

Or maybe it’s not that at all and we’ve come to a point where we take each other for granted.

It’s that thought that scares me—the thought that I will come and go at your every beck and call. The thought that we no longer cherish each other, or see the value in what we’ve created. The fact that we no longer giggle in joy at each other’s presence.

The fact that our intimacy is quickly dissipating, slipping between our very fingers until there is nothing left but dust on the ground.

Goodbye my lover.

Until I can find a creative way to utilize this dust, its on the ground that we will lay. Every time I’m here, it breaks my heart, but only for a moment. Laying on the ground reminds me time and time again of the love I need to give myself—the work that I need to do on me, before I can bring myself forward into any relationship, casual or not.

And it is because of this that I thank you. Thank you for this gentle reminder that I am valuable, and that as long as self-improvement is a choice, I will—need to—always choose it.

This is a reminder that, although I’m heartbroken over the loss of a passionate king, I am still a queen.

Negotiating this casual relationship of ours reminds me time and time again that we are fragile in our strength.

Thank you for reminding me of my soft side that I regularly forget.

Although I was vulnerable with you, I do not regret it, for it’s showing this vulnerability that allows us to grow. And as much as I get caught up thinking of the future, the vulnerability we shared keeps me present.

For that I am grateful. It is as such that I thank you, dear lover of mine, for allowing us to be grounded while simultaneously growing. Thank you for not making this messy, for allowing us to continue onwards in whichever direction our journeys may take us.

Thank you for the intimacy we shared, and for the space to move on.

As much as you are worth pursuing, worth fighting for, we’ve come to realize this is not the case for us.

It’s not me and it’s not you—it just is.

Goodbye my lover.

 

 

 

 

Author: Kayla Dreisinger

Editors: Renée Picard  / Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: author’s own