the sons and daughters of hungry ghosts

He said he was in love with me, but he’s already forgetting all that taught him, falling back on what’s easy and available rather than what’s worth fighting for. It is like we never existed. I see it before he tells me while part of me dies inside, a confession of old bad habits over a dinner that I am too silently upset to eat. I push my fork around, pretending conversation. I have no magic words, no way to explain that would remind him. Inside I wonder if he will one day understand “meaningful” or, worse, if in some future, he’ll say these things and I will no longer care, no longer certain of his worth.