When you can’t stop smoking cigarettes because you feel so left. Alone. Even when I’m at “home”. Because this isn’t my true home. I want to be alone. With you. It feels like the swine flu that’s inside of you, transpiring inside of me. I want to flee. I want to walk away and run away and find another place. Where I no longer see your face. Light another cigarette after the last cigarette. You’ve never left. I am not at rest. I can’t sleep. I’m so weak. What the fuck do I do without you? I feel so empty. But at the same time at this point I feel empty. I feel. But I only feel weak. I’m done trying. I’m done crying. I believe I am strong. I know I can move on. It’s just going to take too long. I tried to move on for so long. But I went back too many times. And now I’m that much stronger. This time I will last so much longer. I wonder. Every day in my mind about what could have been. But it never would have been. I tried too long and held onto you so strong. I give up on you. But I’m done giving up on me. I need to do me. I need to be free. Please. You brought out my greatness through your hateness. I embrace it. Embellished within my soul.
To you; I never felt sacred. Only hated. What I felt was real. You only made me feel. Hate. So much I can relate. But it’s not okay. I’m not okay. I feel so betrayed and slayed by your betray. Your hate; you misplaced inside of me. How could you leave me be, so badly mistreated. I’ve never felt so defeated.
You hate because you can relate and retaliate. When I could never hate you. I just wanted to save you. Two years. Of nothing but love and hate. From you. I will always love you. But you somehow take what happened out on me and it will always stick with me. I can never hate you; that’s not untrue. I wish I could forget about you but you will always be a part of me. Everyday. In every way.
You are a part of me. And not even dramatically. Realistically. You need me.
I need you too. But I know it can’t be done and it will leave a bruise.
Tonight I can’t even look myself in the mirror because I don’t want to hear. That I’m a lying whore that you don’t love anymore. That I’m a lying bitch who doesn’t mean shit.
I keep waiting for you to message me asking for me back or for me to cut you slack. But I get none of that. It’s a slap. To the face. And to reality. That you won’t be back to me.
And as much as I hate my life, I hate yours too
Just can’t seem to teach myself to ignore you
I wish I could sleep.