All I Want
Watching others hurts like hell. The way he looks at her and smiles and twirls his pencil and the way she pours over him… She adores him. You can always tell. She leans her head on her hand and stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes I know, because I used to have that look. He did too. I still would…
“If you loved me,
Why’d you leave me?”
I still don’t understand, but I’m really good at pretending I do. At least now that I realize people don’t care as much as they did. I’m skilled in the act of slapping a smile on my face and acting confident in the hallways and keeping my chin up until I get home. Late at night is the only time I fall apart, and you can tell by the mascara and water staining the sheets and pillow.
Maybe we were too serious for a high school relationship. Maybe we had the right thing at the completely wrong time. Maybe if we’d met a few years later it would’ve lasted forever, like you promised; like I promised.
“If you loved me,
Why’d you leave me?”
No matter how loud I blast the music I can still feel it, I can still hear the silence and feel the emptiness.
It hurts when people talk to me like I’m some sort of cancer patient, like I’m dying and they can tell. I can feel looks of pity and I know every time someone talks about me. I can tell. Passing you is so incredibly painful.
Remember when it used to break your heart to see mine ache?
I’m starting to forget you. I’m starting to forget your facial expressions and the way your eyes softened when you saw me and the quirky smirk of your smile when you said my name. I forget your “I love you”s. I forget your sigh.
I’m not ready to forget.
“If you loved me,
Why’d you leave me?”
