A Piece of Me

Addicted

Just when I think I'm done writing about you, 

Writhing over you, 

You come right back, 

Usually after some feeble attempt to move on, 

And heartbreak sets in. 

I still don't understand why it had to be you of all people.

Why I couldn't find someone who was more like me than you.

I'm still drawn to you. 

But I won't reach out to you and further embarrass myself. Not again. 

I may come off as optimistic in a way but how can I truly?

You were my light even though you were the darkness. How does that make any sense?

It doesn't. 

Yet I don't care. 

My mind still trails off to you when I seek emotional comfort. 

Why? Pfft. Heck if I know. 

Seven years almost of this and you'd think I'd know by now. 

I worry and wonder about you. STILL. 

You don't deserve it, me. You were right about that.

I still imagine impossible scenarios where we meet again. 

It's always awkward at first but we fall into old patterns so fast and it's hard to fight our feelings. 

We eventually come together all over again. 

Then the fantasy starts over because it was never real. 

One's happening right now. 

I might start writing them down, no matter how fake or ridiculous they may be. 

Who freaking cares?

You don't. 

So why should I?

I don't. 

That right there might be the problem. 

Oh well. 

I'm an addict. 

Too bad.