It's been exactly five years. Five years since I've actually seen your face. Five years since I've kissed your lips. Five years since I've been truly happy. I still remember that horrible day. The day I lost you is crystal clear in my mind, because I think about it every night, before I go to bed without you.

It was March 5th, 2005. I had just got home from that tour around the world, playing charity concerts for orphans in Africa. As soon I had opened the door, you jumped into my arms. After all, we hadn't seen each other for 6 months. After a chaste kiss, you had looked me square in the eye and said those five little words that would have crushed any heart, "Listen, we need to talk".

You had said that we didn't spend enough time together, our love died. I argued back, saying love never dies. Was everything we'd been through for nothing? Then before your final goodbye, you said you were sorry you had rather have your boyfriend at home with you, not saving the lives of poor orphans. I forgave you of course, because I would rather have my girlfriend than saved orphans. You were Caitlyn and I was Nate. We were perfect together, just two selfish hearts in unison. You walked out the door and never looked back. I wish I could say the same about me.

It's been a while now, and I like to think I'm all better. The romantics would say I've been cured of a broken heart. The realists would say I'm forever bound to you. I'm married to an agreeable wife who loves me for me, not a former rockstar. I have to say I love her back, but not in the way I loved you, and never that way.

She looks just like you. Her name is Alyson. She's got the curly hair, the megawatt smile, and long legs. But, her hair doesn't have the extra bounce yours does, her smile doesn't shine as bright as yours, and her walk just doesn't glide like yours.

She says she wants to have a baby, with the curly hair and brown eyes. I'd be lying if I said I was ready to raise a mini-you, just so I could be reminded everyday of what would have, could have, should have happened. So, I suck it up and tell her I'm just not ready. I know sooner or later I'll have to give in, but I hope it'll be later.

Hey, I got your Christmas card today. I added to the box in my closet dedicated to us. It was the first time I've heard from you in years. You look fantastic, better than ever. The picture of you on the swings reminded me of the good old days, when you used to make me push you on the swings ALL THE TIME. When you finally got to the top, you'd flap your hands and pretend you were a bird, as if you were five years old, not nineteen.

We were young but so happy. So why did it end? Am I really just worthy of a "Hi Nate, Merry Christmas from Caitlyn? I've never been one to believe all good things come to an end. I see that you lost the spark in your eyes somehow, but kept your maiden name. That enough is to keep me going. The chance that you might still be out there, untaken by any other lucky son of a bitch guy, is the chicken soup for my soul.

So there, my soul has been bared to the woman I loved, no, still love. I know you will just read my letter, probably toss it out, then carry on with your life. But just the thought of you alone, with no one to hold, and me wishing I was there to hold you, is the fuel to my fire. Only hope will keep me alive, if I can't have you. And only hope I have. So have a Merry fucking Christmas. I know I will.