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You said the most cliche things of all the day we said goodbye. “It’s not goodbye, I’ll be seeing you again.” In the moment, it seems so sweet and sincere, but as you look back at it now, you realize it was only as I said before- a cliche thing. I haven’t seen you since and your voice has become yet another distant memory.

Sometimes I remember the way you smiled so largely as I walked through the airport terminal, seeing you for the first time in months. I was nervous and that nervousness made me hesitate at the sight of you. I can think now of how cute you looked, standing there, smile and all, but during that moment I felt nothing, but scared. 

If I were to see you yet again, I wouldn’t know what to do. Should I embrace you, as I wish I had done at the airport? Or would I simply walk away without a word, as I should have the last time we broke.

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Your kisses were rough, but your skin baby soft. The lights were off, but a film was playing on the television, casting a glow onto your skinny, little body. When the night began, I was nervous, unsure of what I wanted, but as it progressed, the nervousness went was replaced with eagerness. 

Your body, though unfamiliar, felt as though it were made to fit perfectly with my own. The air surrounding us in my tiny room in my tiny apartment was cold, but I had your heat to keep me warm. With our limbs intertwined, I felt like we were the only creatures left to wander the Earth.

To leave this bed will be such torture, but I know soon the sun will rise and our bodies will go back to being our own. How badly I wish we could stay in this sea we call my bed, but the world demands more of us. So, it’s time to get up for the day, but I know we will be falling into this sanctuary of a bed again soon.

Just like your parents used to say, “Not everything is about you.”

Every word that I say isn’t said for you and every time my legs shake it is not me quivering at your touch. I could say that once upon a time it was all meant for you, but if you believe that after all this time that is still the case, you are far more naive than I could have imagined.

You and I are so routine; I’ve just been going with the motion because it is easier than picking up and starting anew.

You aren’t the only man I kiss; you weren’t the first nor will you be the last. Once upon a time you may have been my all, but the fragment of my heart you still possess has become so small.

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Here’s to another long night. He’s slurring drunken words into my ear as though he were the most romantic poet to walk the earth. As he tries his best to stand straight, I feel as though my world is crashing down. He’s just a lush, I remind myself, by morning we’ll be fine. By morning I’ll kiss you goodbye before your eyes open.

I won’t sleep a wink; instead, I’ll toss and turn for the remaining hours of the night. Laying in the same spot I’ve been occupying for months- the left side, nuzzled up against you- which once felt like heaven, but now reminds me that I’ve overstayed my welcome.

Even in this moment, looking at your glossy, drunken eyes, I can tell even you can see that things have changed. I’, not the same lady you swept off her feet and we both know she isn’t coming back. The air keeps getting thicker between us and my heart, more heavy. 

I remember when you thought my quirks and flaws were something to admire, even my crooked teeth, but now all they seem to do is disgust you. Here I am, being selfish and senile, acting as though I’m not the one who was let down by all of our expectations. Your mere existence has begun to let me down, but is it even fair to blame you for such a thing? We were promised the world, but were left with a speck of dust.

You once had my heart beating a thousand times a minute, but now it’s gotten so old and grey that it won’t budge at all. I just know that if I don’t leave now, I’ll end up just as old, grey, and stuck.

It’s a scary thing, to walk away. Even if you’ve been drained of all you have, it still pains you to know that this is it. There is no tomorrow, no future, no more love for the two of us. I’ve got to face the facts and say goodbye, with hopes that someday I’ll learn to fall in love again.

You still find a way to haunt my dreams. In them, I’m in your city. My heart hands low as I wander, wonderinf ig I will get the chance to see you again. Just once more. I look around every corner, hoping to see your face. That face I used to kiss, the one that haunts me so. How realistic those dreams can feel. Even in my slumber, I know that I could fly across the country with high hopes that I’ll find you, only to have you wanting anything but.

I’ll wonder if you’re still living in the same flat; the one in which you held my face and told me I was beautiful. It is your kindness which is ever so haunting. It is as though I wish you were never so kind at all, for then I wouldn’t have anything to miss.

I pray- beg, even- to the Lord above that you will cease to haunt me; in my dreams or otherwise. But the torture lives on. I find myself wondering, “What if, what if…” I will come so close to letting go, maybe even moving forward, only to close my eyes and dream of you again.

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When you ask me, “What’s wrong?” and I respond with, “Nothing,” it kind of means that nothing is wrong. Or nothing important enough to bother anyone with. But instead you take it as me giving you attitude, me being the evil little bitch you hate me to be. You try to present yourself to be some great man, but I know of the ugliness that exists within you. I’m not perfect and I have my off days, but if something was bothering with me, I would be a bigger man than you ever were and actually say something about it. I’m not some passive aggressive asshole and perhaps you’re right, I don’t respect you. Why the fuck should I?

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