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.