Irrelevant

I don’t need him.

Not his money,

Nor his polo shirts,

Or those trips outside the country.

I don’t need to see him.

And I don’t need to see him wear his tux

To every milestone in my life.

I don’t need to sit in a table for five,

With his significant other,

And those two little ones.

I don’t need to be told that I have his

Height, or his limbs, or hypertensive trait.

I don’t need him to sweet-talk me

Into believing his every word.

I don’t need his perfectly combed hair,

Nor that scent he wears,

The one that makes me weak.

No!

I don’t need his comforting hugs,

Nor his effort to make me feel happy.

I don’t need him to pick me up when I call for help.

I don’t need him to take my hand while we cross the street.

I don’t need him to wipe my tears,

Then let me keep his sweet smelling handkerchief.

Not his cigarette-stained lies,

Nor those bottle-slurred I LOVE YOU’s.

I don’t need him to call me “Baby Girl”

Every time he gets the chance to.

I don’t need him to compensate

For those countless years of absence.

I don’t need to be reminded that

He didn’t choose me. Us.

I don’t need to hear him say

“You are mine”.

I don’t need to miss him,

Nor kiss his cheek,

Nor get lost in his embrace.

I don’t need to break at the mention of his name,

at the sight of his torn up, virtual photograph.

 

I don’t need him.

No, I certainly don’t.

I’ll get by.

Somehow,

I will.