I Died That Day

I died that day. The day you told me that
you didn’t love me anymore.
I died when I heard
that you were in love
with someone else.
Someone who was less than I was.
Had she been more beautiful,
smarter or wittier, the blow
might not have stung.
She was none of these things.
All she was was a warm body
on a cold, cold night.
I could have been that.
But you wouldn’t let me
under the covers to warm you.
Instead, you ran away.
Not for someone better.
Not for someone smarter.