I don’t miss you as much anymore.

But I missed you so much at first.

One year ago, when we had that argument via text

and you stopped responding

I missed you.

So I texted you once in awhile

gradually becoming more remorseful

But still, no response.

I knew that I need not apologize

because you were in the wrong,

but after I cursed you and called you names

and talked about how she trapped you

and how could you stand it,

then I knew I had crossed the line.

I missed you then.

I knew you were gone, though.

So I deleted my account

even though I knew

you would never find me.

I have all your digits.

It’s all online, isn’t it?

And your email right there too.

All the details of your life, I know them.

Your business.

Your home address.

Your girlfriend.

Where she works.

And even your baby’s name.

Although you didn’t tell me.

Yet, you don’t know me.

My real name.

Where I live.

Where I work (or don’t).

You don’t know much.

I firmly demanded discretion

and you obliged

without putting up

much of a fight.

So I am just a figment.

An ember from your past.

And the more time that goes by

I hope you know

and perhaps regret,

all that you lost.

Although, I doubt it.