How’s the saying go? Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, won’t get fooled again. Fool me a third time and… well, the second time didn’t really count because, I mean, man, didn’t he look dead?
I miss you, but not in the ways I expected. I miss you with a heated rage. I miss you with a shaking fist, white knuckles, a growl deep in my throat. I thought I would hold more sorrow, but it never grew with much strength. You begged forgiveness, you begged to be back in my life. It was a game to you, wasn’t it?
Alas, here you aren’t. What I now understand is that my anger was never yours. I am, after all, the one who crowned the same fool twice.