small sad victory.

All sunday I laughed, at myself and some at him. How i had left him in the middle of the night, how i would disappear out of his life and become a mystery... the one that got away. that made me smile, a sad small victory. i found a poem i had written a few years ago about nights like that, and i see the change in me, another small sad victory. as i park my car on my return to the city and my other life she questions 'who's wallet it this?' picking the left object off my car floor. I feel my cheeks blush, like a slap in the face. i try to stand still but can't. i find his card and leave a message on his phone. why couldn't it have been a simple exchange? this is not the beginning of something, i feel that deep into my bones, i wont prelong something that needn't be. i promise that to myself.