the inevitable

*five

when the lights are off and my eyes are closed there's nothing else that matters except the running reel of memories stuck on repeat and the broken record of your words in my head. My words spinning in my head like muffled static. Like there's something to hurt about. To cry about. Sentences bound to be made then built up and broken down faster than I can react. Flashes upon flashes of your smile, my laugh, pictures, music, scents, like a continuous circle with feelings of disbelief fill up my throat. Asking me to say something. Anything. Asking me to feel something. Nothing.

Dear You,
There isn't anything more painful than to love wholeheartedly for the first time. It was something so unfamiliar, but as time went on it was repetitive, overbearing, and exhausting. You gave me all of your loose threads expecting me to keep them. I went to the point where all the words that came through my mouth were there just to heal yours. There was so much of me to give while you gave me empty compliments and how I made you a better person. My priorities switched from making sure I was okay to making sure you were. And that if I would lift my hand it would be to wipe your tears before mine. You have turned my strongholds against me in benefit of you. Let yourself take the hurt that I have so rightfully deserved. I should be saying your name dipped in bitter taste. I should be full of disgust. I should be the one laying in my bed with an empty box of tissues and tear stains down my cheeks. I should be sick to the core. Angry about what you did. Angry about what you took. All I can hear is white noise and the sound of your voice. You have taken away my love and trust then complained you didn't have enough. You have taken away my butterflies and falling asleep with a smile on my face and replaced it with hesitation and guilt. In the end I am learning to forgive and learn to be the person I want to be. The person you would have never fell for. Clean of your mistakes and your need and desire. Clean of your spiteful stares and judge mental remarks. There's nothing more to do but to look you in the eyes with a smile on my face. With an empty heart and a head full of doubt. You can stand and admire what you have done when you're done looking at the hands who made it.