Last night I lay alone in my bed and tried to remember happy times with you. I tried to remember if we’d ever taken a romantic walk along the river, or had a bookshop date, or done any of the cute romantic things you deserve but would never have asked for. I tried to remember if I had ever been a loving boyfriend, but all I can remember is feeling empty whenever you were gone and feeling empty when you came back and shagging like it would fill that void then feeling empty when we were done.