There came a point when he just couldn't stand
To be called "Hon"
Not one more time
His friends had taken to calling him
Attila
So frequent was her use of that endearment
And all those notes she left for him
In his pockets, briefcase and wallet
Words that spoke of affection
And undying devotion
Swearing a lifetime of
Fidelity
Positively creeped him out
The last straw was the insistence of a portrait
The two of them in matching sweaters
The photo studio was surprisingly busy
Two by two the couples smiled
Sitting side by side
He started planning his exit then
On the morning of the 16th
As she buttered the toast
He cleared his throat and spoke
"I think we need to spend some time apart" She looked at him sharply and said
"Fine"
It wasn't the fight he had prepared for
On the 18th he took possession of his own apartment
Rolled out a sleeping bag to sleep on the floor
The bed would not be delivered
Until Monday, with the sofa
So he counted to himself the reasons
Until he fell asleep
At the end of the month he called her
Left a rambling message of regret
She listened to it once
Pressed "5" to delete
She didn't miss him
At all
Like she thought she would
He spent seemingly endless days wishing
That he could find a way to put things back
As they were
He hadn't anticipated missing
The notes and photos and being
"Hon"
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