I push you so far away because otherwise I could never bear it. But then, late at night, my body and mind work together to destroy me because all of a sudden I can see your smile and your eyes, I can hear your soft voice and your laughter. And, just to punish myself, I look at pictures of you and her. I look at her eyes and lips. I compare my age to hers. I see love on your face in those pictures. I force myself to face reality so I don't go insane. You love her right now, not me. You kiss her right now, and not me. Somehow, this other person gets to hold your hand and touch your face, and I really don't think she understands how lucky she is. Why can't her love be wasted on somone else? I always forget that you had to have asked her to be there. Otherwise, she wouldn't be your wife.
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