I hope the next woman who finds herself tangled in your sheets and between your legs tastes me on every square inch of your frame. 
I hope she falls in love with your voice until you call her by my name when she thinks she’s making love to you. 
I hope she finds my black hairs on your pillow and asks about me, just so she can see your muscles tighten and your back go stiff at the mention of the one who got away, the one you wish you had tried to keep. 
I hope she knows that your sorry excuse for declarations of love will pale in comparison to what you will always feel for me.
I pray she learns to run away like I never did.