Three years ago, you ripped out my heart, dropped it on the floor and stepped all over it with your football boots. You disappreared without giving me an explaination, took off up north “for work” I was told.

You left me, and I found out I was pregnant with your child. I HATE the thought of you being the father of my daughter, and thankfully it is something I neither confirmed nor denied to you, and you showed no interest when I told you I suspected I was pregnant.

All I got, on the 4th of August that year, 6 days before my miscarriage, was a pathetic text: “I’m sorry things ended the way they did”

I did not give you the satisfaction of replying. Fuck you.

You wonder what you did wrong, trying to communicate with me via Facebook, my space, MSN, anything to try to be friends. Sorry mate. You blew your chance.

It’s funny how a simple sentence “My period is late, I’m worried” can change you life. A life sentence i guess, pardon the pun. You ran away, 3000ks away to be precise, while I dealt with the consequences…the life and death of our daughter.

I miss you with all my heart my butterfly. Thank god DF. has come along to ment my shattered heart…