When You Left

06

10. 18. 13

        I want to start over.

        I want us to drive down the street just like we used to; with our windows down, so I can taste the sea salt on my tongue long before we even see the vast ocean shimmering in the distance. I want us to surge back to life after the waves have finished crashing and breaking us apart. I want to build a sandcastle on that new life and call it home. I want to make love on that sandy beach like everything we had built together hadn’t come crumbling down underneath our embracing bodies.

        I want us to take what is on our backs and board a plane for whatever flight is set for departure. I want to spend months doing just that; going from country to country and slumming it together. I want to leave behind the mess we have made for ourselves.

        I want to be able to fight with you about books and movies. I want to tell you how much I love you whenever I feel like it. I want to try to be better and not have panic-attacks anymore because I know they scare you. Scared you. Past-tense… I keep forgetting.

        I want you to love me again, to whisper lies into my ears, as you used to. I want to feel your rough hands dance along my spine and entangle in my hair. I want you to love me again.

        But, I need you to make me hate you.

        I need you to take the pictures of us down on your twitter. I need you to take your leftover laundry –I keep sleeping in it- I need you to tell your mother we have broken up –by the way, she wants you to call your brother.

        I need to forget all the words you have said to me. I need to accept that you aren’t coming back. I need to tell Yoda to stop whining for daddy because he isn’t coming back.

        I need you to tell me you don’t love me. I need you to burn our sheets and take your furniture back. I need you to rip the necklace from my neck and stomp on it. I need you to take these letters and rip them to shreds. I need you to tell me what a horrible girlfriend I was. I need you to tell me you don’t love me.

        I want to start over and do everything differently and be happy with you.

        I need you to tell me you don’t love me anymore and to scream at me, so that I can stop wondering ‘what if.’

        But we can’t start over and you are far too nice to do those things to me even if I begged you to.

        So, here I am, stuck between what I need and what I want and knowing I won’t get either of them.

I still love you,

Daisy