It’s pathetic how much I miss you.

You’re just a stranger

with an anime character

for a profile pic.

You reflect my own erotic desires back to me

through roleplay.

That’s all.

And yet I miss your words so much.

Writing for one isn’t nearly

as powerful

as the sexual energy

we conjured up together.

I know it’s vain to hope.

Yet, I keep checking

for that little orange envelope.

I could have settled for you

texting me

good morning

and good night

every day

and calling me by my pet name.

Instead,

all I have is silence

and the hottest fantasy

ever written

to remember you by.

I wait for you like a faithful dog,

though you probably won’t return.

I refrain from messaging you.

I don’t want to guilt you

or pressure you

or scare you away.

I want you to come back

because you want me.

I want you to want me

the way I want you.

You can’t tell a trans girl

such beautiful, sexy things

and then disappear on her.

I have no claim to you

and you owe me nothing.

Yet my heart feels sad

and bitter

at thoughts of you.

I hate the questions that I ask myself

in your absence.

Is this my fault?

What could I have done differently?

How could I win you back?

Did I burn you out?

Maybe my appetite

for sex

and romance

is just too big.

Maybe you were starting to fall for me too

and it was just too much.

I guess I’ll never know what happened.

At least you left me

with a roadmap

of what I want in a man,

what I want our relationship

to feel like,

how I want to be made love to.

Thank you for the illusion.

It was nice to live inside it for a while.

To get some relief

from this constant fantasizing

and obsessing

and get close enough

to almost touch

the things I want.

It sure beat the hell out of

vision boards

and affirmations.

And even as the energy fades,

I know you helped me

call in my other soulmate.

Who is hopefully on his way.

So thank you.