i dont know

i dont know why i still feel like this.

why i still dream about your touch in the middle of the night. why i wake up every morning hoping that you messaged me while i was sleeping. why i am still in love with you. why i crave the sound of your voice. why i miss your laugh.

i dont know why i miss these things.

why i miss your sheets and how they feel on my legs. why i miss your room and its lights. why i miss your car. why i miss the lunches with you. why i miss the rides with you. why i miss the little things that usually dont matter. they give me nightmares.

i dont know why i still talk about you.

why i feel little twinges of pain when i hear your name. why i feel hope when i say your name. why i talk bad about you in hopes that one day i will hate you. i cant hate you, by the way.

i dont know why i still write to you.

why i speak on here like i am talking to you, although i bet you dont even read these. why i type these words and continue to dwell on the past.

its been five months since you left me, but i still feel like it was yesterday.

i dont know why i am doing this but it gives me hope.

 

 

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driving

today i’m driving back from seeing family, and i cannot help but to think of you.
i remember us driving around the lake, holding hands, not knowing where in the world we were going to end up. you rubbed my hand and i looked at you the whole time. that was one of my favorite days.

you took me out to lunch, to that mexican place we loved, and then off we went.

i remember driving back from the party and me thinking “tonight’s the night.” and it was, but i loved that night too.

we would always put on meaningful music while you drove and i loved you so much on those rides.

you never realize how much you’ll miss the little things once you’re separated, like the short drives around. i miss your little car, and the passenger seat that i occupied frequently. i miss you singing, and afterwards saying how bad you were.

this is what i miss the most.

(if you end up reading this, i love when you sing.)

why

“why me?”

I ask myself this question every morning, right when I wake up and the pain sets in for the day. Why did I choose to give my heart to you? Why did I let you in and expect anything different? When I said yes to being yours, I expected to never be hurt by you. You are a good person, that I know. I, to this day, do not understand why this happened to us.

I gave you my heart: you held it in your hands. You alone were the one who ended up crushing it, not protecting it from harm and led it to its death. As much as I resent you for what you did, I cannot hate you. Hate and resentment are two different things, and I can do anything but hate you.

How does that work? How can you not hate the one who broke you?

Why? Why did this happen? I am still searching for the answers in this world.

I write these in hopes that you will see them. In hopes that you will come back, although I know you won’t.

So here it is:

please come back.

question

“Do you think about me?”

I know the answer.

“Do you still love me?”

I know the answer.

“Do you ever miss the feeling of my skin?”

I know the answer.

“Does this hurt your heart like it hurts mine?”

I know the answer.

“Are the words about me?”

I know the answer.

“Why?”

I don’t know the answer.

‘No.’

‘No.’

‘No.’

‘No.’

‘No.’

The “no’s” burn my lungs

Like i’m breathing toxic air.

Like i’m going through this a thousand times more.

I ask the questions I know the answers to

hoping that you’ll say something different.

 

text

i was playing on my phone today when you texted me.

my heart stopped and i started shaking. i couldn’t move. i couldn’t form a coherent thought.

what would i say? that i miss you? that after all these months i still love you? what can one say to the one who broke their heart?

you apologized for breaking me, but i knew that that’s all we were going to talk about. that was it. no long conversation about missing each other, no conversation about what we’ve been thinking over these two months.

that was it. a ‘sorry’. i knew i was thinking selfishly, but i wanted more from you. i didn’t want you to stop texting me. i love you and i couldn’t tell you that.

so, here it is.

i love you, and don’t go. don’t stop talking to me. let’s smile at each other at school. let’s go back to what we were. i miss you. god, i miss you so much it hurts me at night and keeps me in a daze during the day.

come back, please.

i love you.

leggings

i just found your leggings in my closet. the leggings that i borrowed on the night of our first party, our first sleepover… our first time.

i remember picking them out of the last drawer on your dresser, i remember it like it was yesterday. the leggings drawer: the cluttered mess of black clothing, the thing you had so many of but needed more.

I remember me being scared in your car at the party because it was my first time and no one had made me feel like you did at that moment.

i remember you peeling them off of my freshly shaven legs, the legs that i hated but you grew to love. you asked me if i was scared and i said no. i was scared, but you made me feel safe and ready. afterwards, you put my clothes back on because “no one ever puts clothes back on someone after they take them off”

i fell in love with you a little bit more after you said that. that made me realize how old of a soul you are, and how caring of a heart you had.so when i pulled these leggings out of my closet, i was unsure of who’s they were. i smelled them and my heart stopped, my lungs stopped functioning for a second. and then i was reminded of that night.

these are your leggings, and they are all i have left after the war, the battle that i lost. the battle that defeated my heart and opened up wounds that are incurable.

you may have won the war, but i have these left to remind me of the nights we spent together.