This time last week she called me honey.

This time last week she called me honey.

Not even a week, just a never-ending weekend and a couple of days.

It just goes to show you what can happen in such a short time.

One day, you’re in, the next you’re out, a whirlwind of what the feck happened there?

A stupid fallout, a nothing, a misunderstanding, not even a difference of opinion.

She says that she is feeling taken for granted, when the opposite is true.

But now she’s gone and you wonder why she thought that way?

Were you so blind not to notice?

Were you complacent to a fault?

A weekend of self-righteousness and refusing to pander to her insecurities.

Then a few days of self-doubt, because she’s gone and no matter who’s to blame, you miss her.

No matter the circumstances, it’s stupid, you know it is.

You hope that she knows it too and you don’t want to lose her.

So you send an olive branch, a friendly message telling her how much she matters to you.

But it comes back sharpened like a spear and stabs you in the heart.

This time last week she called me honey.

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