Ah, the curse of a breakup’s anniversary.
The time a human will reminisce
And revisit memories that were locked up in pandora’s box, commonly known as the subconscious.
Just when snapchat’s memories feature was about to lose its sting.
A moment that can be described as a hit from the ocean’s wave,
Filled with emotions that belonged to the past.
And the state of being currently wet from the salty water,
That refreshing feeling reminds you how the good times were… fulfilling, overwriting all the bad shit that went down,
But that saltiness fuels that regret of causing so much damage to him as you tried to heal yourself within your mind’s chaos.
Then the sun kindly dries you up, and its warmth hugs you all over,
Sending rays of reassurance and hope, that it’s okay to be alright, and that he’s better now.
I showered with another man’s scent
I wiped my body with his bare skin
I kissed his hands to rewrite the texture that lingered on my lips
I laid beneath his defined build as he gently whispered “surrender”
That moment when you attempt to move on,
And you find a little ounce of happiness in something that has nothing to do with him..
And a faint voice inside you whispers back his name,
And asks you, “what about him? Did he move on?”
Then you mentally reply to yourself,
Convincing yourself that,
“He’s okay, he moved on, accept what’s happening right now, don’t look back”
But you find yourself with the phone on your ears,
And you’re waiting for someone to pick up…
Who am I calling?
Then you hear his voice.
And although that moment of happiness,
That moment of satisfaction was just about
to write a new chapter,
You’re back to a couple of chapters behind… revisiting those feelings,
But also relieved…
As you hear his stupid voice, that you love so much.
That you still love.
But wish you can just
I told my father once,
Why have we become distant?
He hugged me and kissed my forehead,
Then he looked at me and smiled.
That simple gesture held more meaning than any words of reassurance.
I open the door to exit the room,
Then I close it and reach out
To the next doorknob.
I stop midway, I put
My arms down my side.
I walk in the noisy hallway
Past so many different doors.
It feels like I’m running.
I find an espresso machine,
I make myself a cup,
I find a sofa and a book,
I sit and I sip.
I read and ignore the
Desires, roaring from behind
The doors I’ve passed.
My desires. My temptations.
And so very sly of you,
To only have you blame me for whatever fucked up shit I put you through.
Blaming me for the way you felt good because you’re used to my whatever vibe.
I blame you too, you know.
Whenever I’m a specific kind of lost,
I look for you in between the crowd of human flesh.
You were the frame that held me together when something didn’t work out.
I got used to you making me feel safe when I felt empty and unlovable or too hard to handle.
You knew what you were doing, and don’t lie to the both of us that you were clueless.
You wanted to pick up my pieces and show me that only you could do it.
And it’s true, but the whole truth is you can only do that when I’m half lost and almost healing;
It doesn’t work when I’m too broken or have fully healed.
Now, I’m almost healing,
And all I can think about when you cross my mind is
I can’t wait to tell you how shitty it has been and how close I am to being okay.
I blame you too.
So now, we’re even.