i miss her.
i miss my ex.
i miss that brief happiness we shared for the moments we were okay, but if i were to go back to her, the progress i built up would crumble down to my feet and i know for a fact her words would take stabs to my heart. i miss the memories, i miss laughing at the same things we liked and occasionally miss the intimacy we shared. but that's no longer there for i've lost too much and gained too little for me to want to mend what's left of this broken story. i will always carry her fingerprints on me like one of my many tattoos because even when her words wounded me, her hands healed me and i wish i could detoxify my heart from the poison of her actions. i miss her, but i don't. i miss her but i don't want to lose myself in the inevitable void that going back to her would provoke. because she's more instability than solid ground and right now my head's spinning. i wish she would've seen how much she was hurting me before it was too late. we could've been endgame.
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Footnotes
Poetrya series of unconnected scribbles of random topics that come across me.
