The Way You Make Me Feel

I sit at my computer and sob and listen to horrifyingly sad music that reminds me of you and I can't even face the blank document where I imagine a letter to you should be. But you don't care, you walked out, you're gone.

One day, I knew all these words would come back to haunt me.

we swore we'd never end up here.

I hate that you make me feel like this, I hate that you hurt me so much and you don't even realize it. You're pushing me away into the arms of someone you absolutely hate, and you aren't even aware that you're doing it. I miss my Ryan, I miss my boyfriend, I miss the boy that was head over heels for me and spent every day with me and got coffee with me. This Ryan, this person that acts cold to anyone he doesn't personally know and hurts my feelings and embarrasses me and calls that normal; this isn't who I'm in love with. What you call a successful day is snapping at me and acting like you don't want to be there. If you don't want me anymore, I'd just love a memo and I'll leave you alone.

It's sad that I've always told myself that you'd never hurt me; I'd finally convinced myself of it, and you end up hurting me worse than Kyle, who broke my heart.

the highest skies

Even when you do respond to me and even when you decide to call, I still feel alone. As if you had somewhere better to be, things to do other than answer your nagging girlfriend's calls. And I can picture you, reading my texts, laughing along with your friends as you drive around the silent streets of Suburbia, smoking cigarettes and screaming words to songs you all know. Things we all used to do together, you now do with other people. You've moved on from me, and I am drowning in your absence. I sit around and wait for you, hoping to get a text or a phone call. But days pass; nothing.

So this is what loving someone is like.

It feels like you're gone. As if you've quietly excused yourself from my life, you slipped out the door while another of my friends was telling a wild story that had everyone enthralled. And I sat in this lonely dining room, sat and waited long after everyone else had left, days and days and days until maybe you'd come back, you'd throw your jacket that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bought you onto the couch. You'd throw it on the couch, leave the living room and turn the corner to the dining room. You'd see me sitting among everyone's left overs, from days, maybe weeks ago, among dirty dishes and the smell of stale perfume and candles that have turned into burning puddles of wax. You'd see my running eyeliner, my messy, unkempt hair, the ladybug that accompanied me for the past few days in your absence. You'd take me into your arms, and I'd cry, sob, scream, despite having gotten all of that out days ago. You'd rock me back and forth, you'd rub circles into my back with just the tip of your thumb (like you always do), you'd refuse to let go. I wouldn't ask where you've been, you wouldn't ask about my friends or why I haven't moved. Because we both know, we've been to the darkest places these past few days, weeks, months. But none of that requires any discussion, because you came back, and I waited.

After what seems like lifetimes, we'd separate, and tend to the leftover food and dirty dishes that have, between the time that you arrived and now, accumulated grotesque levels of mold.

I smell you on the sheets. I smell your body lying next to me in the night, while I push and push and push you into the wall in my sleep, unconciously reclaiming what's mine. I smell you hovering over me, as you kiss and kiss and kiss my neck, my collarbone, my chin, and finally land back where you're supposed to be. And your hips, they grind and grind and grind into mine and I want want want you, all of you, all the time. I've never felt this hungry and I'm surprised at how accurately I locate the button, the zipper, and you pull pull pull until everythings gone, until its us and we intertwine and I realize that you are the missing part of me. It is this realization that makes me beg you to stay, that makes me cry and cry and cry until I lull myself to sleep. Because you're gone and you won't stay, just for me, just for another hour, please? I watch my missing piece get in the car and drive drive drive away. I come back upstairs, climb into bed, and I smell you on the sheets.