We haven't spoken in months. I keep thinking that maybe you're done with me. Maybe you had your fun and I was only a plaything to cure your boredom. Maybe I was too much to handle, and you decided to leave because I wasn't enough to fulfill your wildest fantasies. Your presence is haunting me in my sleep, as the endless possibilities begin to bury me alive. I don't know what I did to deserve your deafening silence. All I know is that you haven't called in weeks and I can't keep waiting for a reply.
I never said I hated you even though I should have. And I let your secrets die in my throat the day you left. Your fears never escaped the light of day, not through my window. I will use the same window with blackout curtains because if my room stays dark, no one will be able to see my tears.
I will never forget how lonely you made me feel while you were hurt. You said it wasn't about me. I understand now that nothing ever was. I want to pretend you never broke my heart, letting a smile just be a smile, not a calculated move proving I am ok.
That a sweatshirt is only a piece of clothing. It's not an emotional handicap on nights when I miss the smell of your skin. Love, your voice and hugs make me want to tell everyone that their touch is literally killing me. So don't tell me that it's easier for you to be with someone else, as if I don't know how difficult it is to live in my own skin and you will never understand the pain that comes from sitting in a body that never forgets a thing. I know you'll move on as much as I know I'll stay here and remember, everything has changed except I am still me and you are still you. It's enough for me to move forward in my life without you by my side. It's enough for me to move on.
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