Who are you now?

Who are you now?

Because I’m pretty sure I hate you.
Strongly, strong, strongly dislike you
in the very least.

Because right now,
I’m falling to pieces.
And it’s not getting easier.
And time doesn’t heal (any)everything.

And I’ve tried forgiveness,
it quickly gets replaced with bitterness.
Yes,
your leaving was catalyst.

And maybe I didn’t deserve answers then,
but I am past due for your rational reasons
why you left
or felt you had to,
why you waited until I
confessed my sins and fears,
before fleeing,
keeping them all buried inside your chest.

I never treasured you,
but the smiles that you gave me,
the ones that stayed on my face as I fell
asleep
in love
both are now synonyms,
because at least sleeping dogs don’t lie.

But you,
bitch,
your bark never matched
the bite you left,
gaping in my side;
at least you could’ve stayed and
enjoyed my bleeding out.

Let’s make one thing clear:
that I am not in love with who you are
but rather who you were,
or should I now say what?
I know that I love ghosts of
summer’s past,
and I’m pretty sure
your brow doesn’t furrow the way it used to.

I’m sure you sit behind a desk,
attend a class,
and know your life holds far more stress
than I ever could have given you.

But I loved you, babe.
Damn, did I love you,

And damn me,
but I refuse to let that love live forever,
when my future does not include
past summers,
and dead lovers
with no pretty words to
warm me or my bed
at 3AM each night.

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