I saw you, and you looked happy.
She wanted you in a way I never could. She nuzzled into your neck, lips-to-skin not enough so pressing her cheek to yours, her arm to your body, the length of her leg to the length of you.
When I had done that, I didn't mean it.
I wanted to.
I wanted the mis-matched pieces to fit, because I wanted to be part of a two. I don't now. But back then, I did.
I wish I had been kinder about explaining that it wasn't you. That is was the maths of it. The equation of our parts. I wish I'd been kinder in general. Because, that's just it: you are kind and gentle and sensitive and I treated you as "not enough", somehow, because you weren't what I needed in those moments, what I'd imagined, and I knew that if I came over to say hi you'd continue to be kind and gentle and sensitive and that, truth told, I don't deserve that.
Not from you.
Not when she looked so happy, too.