When we talk,
disconnect dangles on the end of every word.
The conversations aren’t forced,
but they are definitely fleeting,
and pierced with potential that will never be fulfilled.
When I think of you, my visions are skewed.
My memories used to play cinematically,
and I would fixate on that imagery as if my life depended on it.
Now, they’re bits and pieces of scenes I vaguely recall being in.
Flashbacks of us kissing are interrupted by the arguing,
and it’s not long before the tears take center stage.
You were what I wanted,
but you were rarely what I needed.
I tried to bury your flaws underneath the moments
where we stood a fighting chance.
These days I’m growing closer to the version of me
that does just fine without you.
When you look at my Instagram,
I wonder what goes through your head.
I’ve forgotten what you smell like,
and I’ve become foreign to your touch.
How beautiful it is to know,
I can’t hold on to what I can’t feel.
My love for you stretches to the end of time,
but I don’t like you, not one bit.
You treat me like I’m unworthy of respect,
but loathe the idea of us becoming total strangers.
Yet even with our history,
we’re already halfway there.
written December 30, 2019.